I haven’t been blogging much lately on my personal blog, and you might have noticed that I didn’t blog here last week either. I haven’t been sick and I haven’t been out of town. But why haven’t I been blogging? Because I’ve been writing.
My world has been drawn down into a small little bubble filled with my words and characters—everything else has felt . . . somehow less real.
Non-writers might find such an admission startling. But writers know. You get what I’m saying. Every one of you would smile encouragingly and express happiness for me that I’ve been “in the zone.” We all live for times like that. Times when the writing comes so easily it’s like living a dream.
This recent experience has taught me something about myself. Most of you will have likely already learned this lesson. It’s one we’re taught from our earliest days as writers. To be a writer, you must write. I’ve heard that we should write every day, no matter what, and the idea sounded great, but come on . . . who can really incorporate that into their daily lives?
I would put “writing” on my to-do list, but it always got relegated to the least important item and as a result, rarely got done. Blogging was usually my only form of writing, and while blogging is an excellent way to keep your writing skills fresh, it hardly propels your stories forward.
However lately, I’ve had the opportunity to submit some things to publishers and they are being well-received. Well-received means more is asked of me. It means more writing. So writing has recently been bumped up from a “C” priority in my Franklin planner, to an “A” priority, which means I’m writing every day.
So my housework is barely getting done, dinners have been the simplest I can concoct and many things I previously viewed as important are getting that measly “C” placed beside them in my planner. No longer is writing the least important thing on my list.
As a result, I am discovering the joys of writing every day.
I’ve known that joy before, but the lesson didn’t stick and I soon forgot. This time, I hope to retain what I’ve learned because the thrill of feeling my stories move forward, of living in the world I have created and through proximity, coming to know my characters and their stories intimately, is intoxicating. I never want to forget the joy daily writing brings me.
I hope my personal blog readers will forgive me for taking an hiatus of sorts because I may not be blogging much. I hope I won’t be blogging much. Because that probably means I’m hanging out with my characters, making sure their stories are told.
There ought to be a sign to hang on my office door: Don’t bother me. I’m writing.

Good luck with your writing---see you next week.


Call me crazy, but I want that. Really, truly want that for them. Strange as it might sound, I want these people to find success, to be published, and have their books be hugely popular. I want to go to conferences or big conventions and look around and see all my friends sitting at tables signing their books for enormous lines of adoring fans.
at freedom, and our duty to honor it.




“Not good,” the man said, a grave tone to his voice. “I’m sorry.”








So I think a more appropriate question for me to ask myself might be more along the lines of: how could I ever stop writing? Words by themselves are such beautiful things, and when bunched together by a true craftsman—someone who uses them well—they can move mountains. Wait, that’s a total clichĂ©. Let me rephrase that…they can part a body of water. No, that’s not right either. Um, how about, words can stir the soul of the cynic whose heart is carved from onyx, breaking through the hard exterior to find the heat, the soft flowing lava within. Yes. That’s better.


