In my earliest memory, I am lying on my stomach in the kitchen looking through the square holes in a grate. I am eighteen months old. My parents and I live in the upstairs apartment of an old house converted into a duplex. Our kitchen lies above the kitchen of the downstairs apartment. Our only… Continue reading Childhood of a Fiction Writer
Do you believe in make believe?
The Christmas Eve I was five, I woke my little sister, took her by the hand, and made her sit at the top of the stairs to watch our parents take our Christmas gifts out of the closet below the staircase. My objective? To prove to her that Santa wasn’t real. Why I don’t know. I don’t think I was a particularly mean sister. I can’t even remember how I knew Santa was make believe.
Creating, one way or another
What a week to start a new book. I’ve had only one uninterrupted day so far, and no writing will occur on this day or night either. Don’t misunderstand; I’m not complaining. I'm still accessing my creativity. Two days this week I worked on a major craft project. Emily wanted us to make a doll.… Continue reading Creating, one way or another
Are you dreaming or writing?
You’ve probably heard the term fictive dream, which is when you as a fiction writer do your job so well that you temporarily transport your reader into your story world. We all hope our books do that, right? But before we can transport anyone else, don’t we have to experience it ourselves? I believe we… Continue reading Are you dreaming or writing?
Dreams, daydreams, and nightmares
We write fiction because we are dreamers. Whether we dream by day or night, whether our dreams are sweet or nightmarish, our stories and novels come from that place where real and imagined combine. At the mere mention of that place, some of us may drift off to ponder the nature of reality. Before long,… Continue reading Dreams, daydreams, and nightmares