Summer invaded. Visitors. Camping trips. Family. And my writing went the way of dead spring flowers—faded and dismissed—praying for a rain endowed wind or hungry bird to escort them to fertile fields.
Sparkers, Novella III of my The Creep Mesquite Anthology is due to release in August, and I’m currently on my third edit.
(Note to self: Must edit. Must edit.)
But it’s so much fun talking to you.
(BUT must edit. Must edit. Must edit and release, soon.)
As I edit and play catch-up, my Wednesday’s Writer Spider Street Fighter, will be dedicated to advice given by those more established and successful than I.
As one writes, a writer does not experience loneliness though she may live a remote and secluded life style. The writer always has those individuals—lovers, friends, family—she creates. All that changes, however, very quickly, when the writer drops her word.doc into a file at night, or in the predawn hours, and rubs her sleep burdened eyes. A sense of, I’m all alone, creeps in and scurries about like dinosaurs. They leave footprints that generate giant crevices in the muddy matter that occupies the space between the ears.
Some writers cave at this time never to retrieve that word.doc from the file. I shamefully admit, that I too have wallowed in the murky muck of the engulfing footprints. Luckily, a family member, or friend, or stranger tossed me a rope in the form of a quote from a famous author. This rope rescued me and pulled me from the hollows of the relentless pain of self-doubt.
A light in the attic flicked on and dinosaur footprints disappeared.
During August’s Wednesday blog posts, as an origin of motivation and information, I offer some inspiring quotes I have used to pull myself from the murk.
During my search for the perfect inspirational and/or informative quotes, I found two very befitting passages that demanded to be featured at the very beginning of our endeavor so that a level playing field could be constructed upon which a writer might build, dance, play, and inevitably create.
Quote #1
American poetry, whatever its other virtues, has seldom promised a path to fame and fortune. One lively exception was the work of Carl Sandburg, who achieved a celebrity before his death in 1967 that seemed more typical of a Hollywood screen legend or a Hall of Fame athlete.

“Benjamin D. Maxham – Henry David Thoreau – Restored” by Benjamin D. Maxham active 1848 – 1858 – National Portrait Gallery, WashingtonNative nameNational Portrait Gallery, WashingtonParent institutionSmithsonian InstitutionLocationWashington, D.C.Coordinates38° 53′ 52.17″ N, 77° 01′ 21.54″ WEstablished1968Websitewww.npg.si.edu. Licensed under Public domain via Wikimedia Commons – http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Benjamin_D._Maxham_-_Henry_David_Thoreau_-_Restored.jpg#mediaviewer/File:Benjamin_D._Maxham_-_Henry_David_Thoreau_-_Restored.jpg
Please, feel free to offer your own inspirational and/or informative quotes in the comment section below. I would enjoy them. Plus, I am in need of a new rope or two or thousand.
The Science Fiction Reality blog is a little science, a little fiction, a little about writing, and a lot of real.
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