Nov 11 2012

Taking a Day Off

Some of you, many of you probably, are the sort that simply must write every day, even if only a little bit.  That’s great.  It keeps you sharp and hopefully keeps the words flowing.

However, everyone needs a day off, even from writing.  If you have no problem writing every day it may seem strange to take a day off every week.  But if you do, it helps to relieve the pressure of needing to produce every day.  You’re giving yourself permission to take a day to rest and relax and not worry about the writing.  It also can refresh your mind and your imagination, perhaps even more than you might think it would.

So give it a try.  Pick one day a week to take a day off from your writing, and see what it does for you.

Nov 11 2012

First Draft by Hand

There’s something magical about writing a first draft by hand.  Personally, I love the tactile sensation of putting pen to page, and writing the first draft by hand allows me to focus more on the color when I get to the typing.

Of course, that means I also have to step away from the computer.

Nov 9 2012

The Small Squirrel

The small squirrel chittered and squeaked. It capered and danced. The man watching it smiled, smoothing his mustache with the tip of a finger. The small squirrel looked at a nearby acorn resting on the ground, then back at the man, twitching its whiskers. Then it sat on its haunches and waited.

“Very clever,” said the man. “Very fun. Such a nice squirrel dance you have made.” He reached into the waxed paper bag that sat upon his lap and drew forth a peanut shell. The squirrel flicked its tail. “This is what you want?” said the man. He cracked the shell with a fingernail and dug the nut out, holding it before his nose. The small squirrel was transfixed.

With a twist of his wrist the man tossed the nut. It landed on the ground and bounced only once before the squirrel had it. The man chuckled as the squirrel dashed back into the crevice of the tree.

Inside the dark confines of the tree the squirrel lifted a paw and tugged at its front. The squirrel’s skin unzipped and sloughed to the floor, revealing a small man wearing a suit and sporting a dark mustache. An exact copy of the man upon the bench. The small man lifted the large nut in his arms and walked to the back of the hollow. He pressed a hand to a smooth patch of bark and a wavering circle appeared on the wood. He stepped through the circle and it closed behind him with a snap.