J is for Junkie

You know you're a junkie,
Just like me. 
You can't get enough. 
It started out that you just needed a quick fix, 
One a month, 
Maybe two. 
But then you realized that you crave it all the time:
While you sit in the car waiting 
To pick the kids up from school; 
At the dentist office; 
In the quiet minutes before you fall asleep. 
You think about it in the shower 
Or while you cut the vegetables for dinner. 
It's worked it's way into your veins, 
Infected you. 

I is for Illustration

I've been working on some illustrations for a middle grade novel that I just finished writing a few months ago and thought that the letter "I" would be a perfect time to share some of them with you.

I'm so endeared with these characters, so it's a treat to be able to bring them to life, not just with words, but with pictures too.

H is for Happiness

Happiness is...

• The patter of rain on the roof
• Lying in the sun on warm grass
• Opening a new book
• The smell of tomatoes fresh off the vine
• Warm socks on cold feet
• The sound of the wind through the aspen trees
• Clean sheets
• Snuggling with kids on a winter night
• White lights on bare trees
• Clear water
• Writing the words "the end"
• The first bite of creme brûlée 
• The music of crickets on a summer evening
• Smooth stones
• A soft breeze through the window at night
• Rolling hills
• The reflection of streetlights on wet pavement 
• The smell of freshly cut grass
• Listening to my daughter sing in the shower
• A new pen
• The unexpected beauty of rusted metal
• A hot shower
• The pale blue of sea glass
• The tight squeeze of a good hug
• A blank notebook
• Cuddling up under a down blanket
• The sound of my kids laughing

G is for Ghost

What spirit does your 
Body house
Now that your ghost
Follows me,
Treading lightly at my heels,
Day and night?
Part of you keeps me
Company, poised on the
Side of my bed,
Waiting 
High above the city,
While the other part
Forgets
Again and again.

F is for Fear

I need this sign posted in every room in my house (Quite possibly, I need it tattooed across my abdomen). Without this reminder, you'll almost always find me with two hands full of kibble ready to hand-feed the long line of fears which have lined up, ready to devour me. 

They can sense a sucker and they know that I don't have the nerve to send them away. No, I'll give them dinner and pull up a cushion for them in front of the fire. Come here Hypochondria, let me rub your tummy. And you Natural Disaster, I brought you a nice glass of cold water. I guess they stick around because I make them welcome, but some day soon the party will end and they'll be out in the cold. Then we'll see who's scared.

How about you? Do you feed your fears?

E is for Elepahnt

So this probably sounds crazy, but I have a little dream that some day I'll own an elephant. And not just any elephant, mind you, a mini elephant (which only seems preposterous because no such thing exists). As a girl I always dreamed of having a unicorn, so it only makes sense that as an adult I'd continue my desire to own a completely fictional creature. 

I can already see it now. Mr. Snuffles (as he'll probably be named) will be curled up at my feet, snoring sweetly through his tiny trunk. I'll use him for an ottoman, propping my feet on his thick skin, which will look like a tiny desert of cracked sand, a miniature landscape of gray. When he's happy, he'll trumpet in his sleep. The high pitched bugle will send the dogs running for cover in some other corner of the house. And on sunny days we'll walk to the market for peanuts and apples, stopping to sit on the curb in the shade, just me and Mr. Snuffles.

Do you have a dream pet? Or am I just bonkers?

D is for Drafting

So I've already told you how much I love brainstorming, but I have to admit that I love drafting almost as much as I love dreaming up new ideas. Maybe it's because drafting is still a portion of that wild and untamed part of writing. It taps into the feral part of the brain where new ideas are born. 

I don't know about you, but when the words are coming easily, bubbling up from that little hidden well, I'm my happiest. These moments don't come every day, but when they do, they're pure joy.

But it doesn't always flow, does it? Sometime the well has been drained, or clogged, or filled up with concrete, but it seems like those difficult days can be just as rewarding as the easy ones because the words still get written. Somehow, they still end up on the page.

When I'm drafting a book I like to have a certain word count that I'm responsible for each day. For me, 1500 words is my sweet spot. It feels like a substantial amount, but it's not too much to drain me. 

How about you? Do you strive for a certain word count when you're drafting?