Technical writers or non fiction writers scribble to pay the bills and for the love of the analytical or the exercise of truth or deception.

Fiction authors write to illuminate their world or escape it.

Whichever kind of writer, it's all about staying alive and helping or entertaining others.

The Writing Life

Like most writers, I have a love of reading and the power of words. When I was younger, I read everything I could get my hands on, but I don’t consider myself well read. I consumed books like a starved person, so quickly I hardly knew what I had read. By some strange process of osmosis, I learned from everything I read, but I cannot give you an erudite discussion of characters, plots, or authors. I can only tell you it’s lodged some where in the core of my being and informs my writing.

In addition to reading, I’ve spent a life time writing---from that first elementary school composition to my college days when I studied French literature and wrote explications de texte. Along the way, I fell into technical writing--to put food on the table and pay bills. In the 90s, I had the good fortune to take a dialog class with Sol Stein, former owner of Stein & Day publishers in New York and a prolific author. That led to his California-based writers’ group, Chapter One. It was a rigorous, ego-bruising experience, but I was intent on learning everything I could about fiction writing. A few years ago, I also had the good fortune to study with another writer, Louella Nelson, an experienced romance writer and teacher of fiction writing. She provided a different perspective and balance to my writing.

My novel, DREAMING OF LAUGHING HAWK, a mainstream, Sixties era novel, is available on Amazon in print and ebook (also available in Canada, Europe, Japan, and Brazil). Download a free sample. If you like it, I hope you'll download the book and post a review on Amazon.

Sunday, April 15, 2012

Goodbye Rose

Back in the Midwest, my stepmother Rose died this morning. She was 90. The end came so fast. Cancer is vicious. She became my stepmother when I was in high school. She had two daughters of her own and my brothers and I made five teenagers to ride herd on. I'm sure we drove her crazy.

Rose was bright, witty and curious about the world. I'm glad she was in my life. She was such a good person and I always enjoyed her company.

Today my husband and I went for a three-mile walk along a local creek. The sky was so blue, the flowers were in bloom, and the birds were singing. I wished Rose could be there to experience it. I wished I could hear her engaging conversation. Perhaps she is at peace now that she is no longer tethered to the earth. If only she could have taken my father along with her. He languishes in a nursing home. He's not unhappy, he's just not himself anymore. Most days he drifts along in a fog, confused and unable to do the simplest tasks.She worried about him constantly. He doesn't know she's gone. You probably couldn't convince him because she lives somewhere in his fragile mind.

Fare thee well, Rose. I will always remember you.

1 comment:

  1. Linda, I'm so sorry to hear your stepmother passed on. It sounds like you're remembering the good things about her. I feel for your father in the nursing home. Not a good place to be. I hope he's at peace there.

    I'm glad nature smiled on you and your husband today.