Wednesday, August 20, 2014


I wrote my first book, Twink the Circus Monkey, in first grade. I don't remember what shenanigans Twink participated in, or what circus feats he performed. But I do remember I wrote it on stapled, mondo-sized index cards in red pencil. And I was inordinately proud of it. I wrote A BOOK. Those awesome, magical vehicles that have the ability to transport us all over the world and beyond, to crack open thoughts never before thought, and dreams never before dreamed. And I WROTE ONE.

I've been in crazy love with books all my life. I've dallied in writing all my life. But I want to be much more intentional about it - hone my craft, write daily, learn continually. Because I think I will be writing all my life, through eternity. Thus: From Here to Writernity (I don't anticipate a trip to Hawaii any time soon).

Think of Buzz Lightyear.

I may go down that race track many times and go around in circles at times, but I'm going to bounce off that ball and keep on writing. Because that's what I do.

When you wake up with a story three-quarters written in a dream, when you wake up in the middle of the night with phrases that stick to your heart, when you giggle at word play - that's what you do. You write. And it doesn't really feel like there is much of a choice. It's just something that comes out of you.

Sure, I need to learn a lot more. And I sure as heck need to finish what I start! I am the queen of unfinished manuscripts. I need to give my writing the priority it deserves. "Writers write." as Chuck Wendig says.

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