Oct 14, 2013

Advice to aspiring Writers

"True enough. What're you looking for there?"
"Success," she said immediately. "Security."
"One doesn't always equal the other."
Her voice was as defiant as the look she aimed at him. "You have both."
"A writer's never secure," Hunter disagreed. "Only a foolish one expects to be. I've read all of the manuscript you brought."
Lee said nothing. She'd known he'd bring it up before the two weeks were over, but she'd hoped to put it off a bit longer. The faintest of breezes played with the ends of her hair while she sat, staring at the moving waters of the creek. Some of the pebbles looked like gems. Such were illusions.
"You know you have to finish it," he told her calmly. "You can't make me believe you're content to leave your characters in limbo, when you've drawn them so carefully. Your story's two-thirds told, Lenore."
"I don't have time," she began.
"Not good enough."
Frustrated, she turned to him again. "Easy for you to say from your little pinnacle of fame. I have a demanding full-time job. If I give it my time and my talent, there's no place I can go but up at Celebrity." 

"Your novel needs your time and talent." 


Second Nature

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“You have to finish things — that’s what you learn from, you learn by finishing things.”





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 It was as Hunter had once said. The characters absorbed her, drove her, frustrated and
delighted her. As time passed, Lee discovered she wanted to finish the story, not only for
her sake but for theirs. She wanted, as she'd never wanted before, for these words to be
read. The excitement of that, and the dread, kept her going.

She felt a queer little thrill when the last word was typed, a euphoria mixed with an odd
depression. She'd finished. She'd poured her heart into her story. Lee wanted to celebrate.
She wanted to weep. It was over. As she pressed her fingers against her tired eyes, she
realized abruptly that she didn't even know what day it was.

Second Nature