First draft of my next book complete. Hooray!
Bubbling around 96,000 words.
Now working through the *many* notations I made along the way (for fear of breaking my rhythm). #amwriting#amediting
Where do ideas come from?
They come from here and they come from there. They come from any and every where. If you catch one and give it a home, after a while, and some care, it may learn to trust you, open itself to you, and grow into something you can share. #writing
'People who wade into discomfort and vulnerability and tell the truth about their stories are the real badasses.'
#BreneBrown (Rising Strong).
#littlereading#amreading#writing
The dream was haunting me: standing behind me, present and invisible, like the back of my head, simultaneously there and not there.
#neilgaiman (The Ocean at the End of the Lane).
#littlereading#amreading#writing
I liked myths. They weren’t adult stories and they weren’t children’s stories. They were better than that. They just were.
#neilgaiman (The Ocean at the End of the Lane).
#littlereading#amreading#writing
Snow had begun to settle high upon the mountain and with it the advent of winter pressed close upon the village. Clouds hung sluggish in the sky above; it was as if the weather were holding its breath.
#megmckinlay (A Single Stone).
#littlereading#amreading#writing
Hanging on the wall of Pixar’s Story Corner display were these three sentences: Story is the big picture. Story is process. Story is research.
#BreneBrown (Rising Strong).
#littlereading#amreading#writing
She took me in through the front door, and into their enormous kitchen, sat me down at a huge wooden table, so stained and patterned that it looked as if faces were staring up at me from the old wood.
#neilgaiman (The Ocean at the End of the Lane).
#littlereading#writing
To survive in this fascist police state ... you gotta always be able to come up with a name, your name. ...That’s the first sign they look for that you’re wired, not being able to figure out who the hell you are.
#philipkdick (A Scanner Darkly).
#littlereading#writing
Above, the canopy of trees was thick enough that hardly any light penetrated. From here, you could almost believe there was no such thing as sky.
#megmckinlay (A Single Stone).
#littlereading#amreading#writing
Time had seemed to stop. There was a moment when she felt that if she could just take a step back she might unstitch something, reverse it. That there must be something she could do to put this right.
#megmckinlay (A Single Stone).
#littlereading#amreading#writing
Usually he could stay up as late as he needed. But tonight, sleep was bearing down on him from above, like the stone lid of an ancient coffin.
#Murakami (1Q84).
#littlereading#amreading#writing
Decisive people, minds fixed on the task, clothed in thick, gray uniforms, working silently from morning to night to make clouds, like bees make honey, spiders make webs, and war makes widows.
#Murakami (1Q84).
#littlereading#amreading#writing