A Writer’s Whim

Skimming the stories I loved so, I saw the growth of a writer. Glimmers of the novel I am drafting now and the woman I am becoming shine out in those early pages of limping syntax and predictable plots. Every now and then, a good sentence or single word stands out and says, "There is hope for you yet, Scribbler."

Non-Writing Writer

I was inspired this morning as I walked to practice piano for an upcoming recital... this would have been great, had I been inspired to practice. Rather, I was inspired to set the opening of Wordsworth’s The Prelude to music.  My roommate (bless her) stopped me just in time: “Ryanne, if you write a melody and…

Late Night Writes

When night falls yet I cannot sleep, words crowd my brain. The following two poems, one serious and the other silly, are the products of last night's writing: "Hover" I lay still in my bed yet hover 'tween the sheets propelled by the heart  which wakefully beats.  A'whirl my mind spirals through darkening, deep space…

Writing a Child

I often refer to my novel as "my baby" and I know this is a tiny bit weird. But, being a writer, I really could not care less if I'm weird. Still, I think I have a valid point when I call my novel a baby, as...   "Writing a Child"   It changes each…

Writing is Hard: A Lament

Writing is hard and I'll tell you why: I am not the Bard and that makes me cry. Red pens are bloodstains on my poor first draft Despite prep-school refrains about the English "RAFT." Well, dear school teachers, I must ask you now: Though you seemed to be preachers, I do not know how To find out my…