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Is Creativity Only for the Talented?

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Drawing and watercolour of a woman's face with the text "Does creativity need talent?"

(Artwork by Martina_Bulkova on Pixabay)

We are regularly surrounded by creative outputs by very talented people—amazing artwork, best-selling fiction, Oscar-winning movies, chart-topping music.

Does that mean those are the standards we should be aiming for?

After all, doesn’t the saying go: “Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars.” (Is it just me, or does that saying make no astronomical sense?)

I believe it’s essential to have goals and visions and dreams. But looking at the above examples brings us to the subject of “talent” and whether it’s important or not to creativity.

The Dangers of Talent

What exactly is talent? The dictionary says it is “natural aptitude or skill.” So in other words, something you’re naturally good at.

Some people have incredible talent and what they produce is amazing. The problem is, if that’s the field we want to play in, often seeing something by someone talented is more demoralising than anything.

Yes, it may give us a moon to shoot for, but would we be content with only stars if we miss it? Or could it stop us from aiming for anywhere, because we think we’re just never going to do anything that good?

And then there comes to the problem of viewing talent (or the lack thereof) as a barrier to entry.

How often have you felt like there’s no point starting something, learning something, trying something, because you just don’t have the talent for it?

Talent, talent, talent. We all want it, but even if we have some talent in a particular area, there are still other areas of creativity where we don’t possess talent. We may be really good at needlework but actually love watercolour. We may be a fantastic doodler but wish we were a musician. Or we may not know what we’ve got a talent for and wish we could do all the things.

So, here are my questions for you: should only ‘talented’ people be creative? What about the rest of us? What do our Creativities do for our lifetime?

My Creativity (as you can guess) has an opinion.

Talent in Perspective

First of all, as an aside, the dictionary also says that a talent is a “former weight and unit of currency, used especially by the ancient Romans and Greeks.” So if your talent is heavier than you think it should be and isn’t buying what it used to, you may have etymological confusion.

But that’s a subject for another day.

With regard to today’s subject, I’ve got a question for you: Why do children stop drawing?

Think about it, have you ever seen a small child who didn’t love drawing? Whether it’s on paper, or tablets, or walls, or car upholstery they’re usually there, pen, marker, pencil, crayon, dirt, small pet in hand and smudging the canvas with any and every idea they have.

When did you stop doing that?

When did your love of something change into ‘I’m not good enough at this, I need to stop’?

Why stop?

Seriously, why stop?!

And what happened to the parents who used to hang everything you did on their fridge and now suddenly need all that space for shopping lists, emergency numbers, inspirational quotes, and a grandparent’s twenty-year-old postcard from Montenegro?
Humans seem to reach a stage where doing something just for the fun of it, just because it’s interesting or inspiring or downright crazy, is no longer appropriate.

But I’ll let you in on a little secret: your Creativity never grows out of it!

Your Creativity still loves watercolour and crayons and large sheets of paper that you can sweep your paintbrush across side-to-side with every colour imaginable—especially gold. We should all have gold!

So why create? Because you’re good at it?

What a ridiculous reason.

Do small children draw because they’re good at it?

No! They draw because they love it. Because as soon as they develop fine motor skills they want to use those to create. Creativity is hard wired. Every human has a little Creativity inside (and I say ‘little’ because there are some of us who are height-challenged, not because there’s only a little bit of Creativity).

Does that Creativity need talent before they can be allowed out to play?

That’s like saying ‘does each human have to meet an intelligence quota before they’re allowed to breathe?’

Create because you breathe. Create because you’re a human and you’re totally allowed to try whatever you want to try whether you’re any good at it or not.

The goal is not to create something amazing. The goal is to ENJOY the process. The goal is to BE creative because everyone has a right to be that. Whether you have a heavy and outdated Roman currency in that field of endeavour or not!

Why Create?

I recently came across this wonderful quote from Dr. Christina Davies:

“You don’t have to be good at art for art to be good for you.”

I feel that sums up the subject very well.

Creativity is good for you. It’s healthy and healing and energising. So if you’re stopping yourself doing something because you have no talent for it, what enjoyment are you denying yourself?

Sometimes we might feel that we only enjoy things when we are good at them. But think back to childhood you when you were creating random paintings of square houses with wonky triangular roofs and windows shoved up into each top corner of the building. Did you enjoy it? Did you love it?

Do you still paint? If not, what about a Paint and Sip class somewhere nearby? Or what about a pottery class, or a beading class, or a scrapbooking class? What if you just need a bit of direction and some people around you who are enjoying themselves creating to remind you what that feels like.

You don’t have to be good at [insert your creative love here] for it to be good for you. You just need to recognise that creativity needs to be part of your life because…well, because you deserve it.

So what is your creative love? Tell me about it below.

What To Do When Self-Editing Goes Too Far

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Cartoon of a person drawing their right hand into existence. Text says "When self-editing goes too far..."

Some people find their ‘logical’ side of the brain or critical voice useful.

They feel they can create with their creative voice and then once they’ve got everything down on paper, they can open the door to their critical side and make the project even better.

If that’s you, then I’m very happy you’ve found a process that works for you.

However, I will warn you, there are times when the logical/critical/self-editing side goes too far.

The Chaos of Critical Voice

A few years ago, during the life roll that landed me in a completely unproductive, uncreative mental wasteland, my critical voice was dialled up to 11.

Although I and my critical voice (or Inner Critic as I often refer to it, though today critical voice feels like the better term) have gone through plenty of pitched combat, I’ve always been able to fight back with Creativity at my side. But, at that point in my life, my Creativity was curled up in a ball of grief.

And so critical voice reigned supreme.

It took a virtual scythe to my creative work in progress (including an infant work that my Creativity and I loved). It picked at short stories over tiny little things that seemed to render the whole story unsharable.

And then it turned its attention to my published books. It fixated on Baverstock’s Allsorts Volume 2 (which is a collection of eleven short stories) to the point where I completely removed it from distribution.

It told me the stories were too dark. That they weren’t up to my usual standard. It told me that people would think “Identity” and “London to Florence” were too strange. It told me people read Baverstock’s Allsorts for the variety of genres and this volume was all too samey.

And I caved. I believed and completely gave in.

As you can imagine, that only did further damage to my Creativity.

Here’s the story from her side.

There’s not much to tell really.

People think that because we Creativities are bouncy and full on and crazy that we’re also loud.

And, yes, we can be loud.

Under the right circumstances.

And the right circumstances aren’t when the Inner Critic or critical voice is blaring at full volume.

I will say that the critical voice is pretty much ALWAYS LOUD. Even in short bursts. It can be easy to ignore a Creativity if you’re busy or unaware they’re talking or in the middle of something very, very, very important—like making dinner or playing charades maybe? (Though I would argue those are BOTH situations where you’d want your Creativity. Are there really any situations where Creativity shouldn’t be listened to at all? I can’t think of any. Driving maybe?) But the critical voice is always front and centre unless you work really, really, REALLY hard to bat it away every time it so much as rumbles.

So because this awful, depressing, unimaginative, destructive voice is booming through the brain, if you’re not ready to back up your Creativity and start fighting for the right to create and be seen, then your Creativity is left pretty much defenceless.

The good news is: we Creativities are patient little beings. We have to be. Life is full of ups and downs. We wait for you. We hope. We’re always full of hope.

But we can’t do much until you’re ready to fight.

How do you fight? Let me hand you back to the fighter.

The Battle of the Mental Wasteland

Fighting back doesn’t happen by accident.

You have to want to do it. You have to understand there is something to fight for.

Creativity is a beautiful thing and what we create deserves to be defended, especially from our own criticism. Because nothing destroys quicker than doubt. But you can build up hope by believing that your creative output deserves to exist. Why does something have to be ‘amazing’ before we ‘allow’ it to be?

Here’s a truth worth remembering: Your critical voice will never think anything is amazing. There will always be something wrong with what it looks at. Always. If you’re waiting for your critical voice to be happy with something, it will never happen. And the more you let that critical side in, the more you’ll destroy what makes your work yours.

So fight for your art. Fight back against the voice. Find your Creativity, dust them off, get them back on their feet and start fighting together.

Cover art for Baverstock's Allsorts Volume 2

I looked back over Baverstock’s Allsorts Volume 2 the other day to see whether my critical voice was right.

Was it dark? It has its moments, but it ends on two comedic pieces. So in all it’s actually a beautiful spectrum. Isn’t that what I want in these collections?

Is it too samey? Actually, right in the introduction I mention a theme in the stories, which tickled me pink because I’d forgotten that. They’re all about “characters working out who they really are, discovering a part of themselves or a need they didn’t know they had.” So there are connections between all the stories, which makes a collection stronger, not weaker. So there, critical voice!

Am I happy with it? It contains one of my absolute favourite stories, “Earnestine”, and one of my husband’s favourite stories, “Teppanyaki for One.” So yes, as of today, I’m thrilled it exists. I’m happy to have my name on it.

I’ve run the gauntlet. I’ve gone from devastating critical thinking to beginning to love my work—and, in effect, myself—all over again.

What’s the secret? Knowing that there’s another way to live. Recognising that critical voice will always be loud. Your Inner Critic has a megaphone and is always using it. Your Creativity, on the other hand, needs a defender—a protector. And that’s you! Your role is to keep parrying away every critical thought and allowing your Creativity room to breathe.

It’s about letting your Creativity know they’re important, they’re worth listening to, and you’re ready to work alongside them and protect what you create together.

For me, that’s the only way I know how to create.

What about you? How do you fight your critical voice?

You Can’t Do Everything. Here’s How to Choose…

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As I said in a previous post, NaNoWriMo is approaching. It’s the month when participating writers aim to write a novel of 50,000 words in 30 days.

I’ve done it before. It’s loads of fun. But as I eye it off this year, I’m wondering if it’s the right time for me to participate.

Another thing that’s been on my radar since the beginning of the month is Victober, the event where participants read Victorian fiction for the whole month of October. I participated two years ago while on holiday and ploughed through a Dickens novel I’d never even heard of but enjoyed immensely. But this year…this year felt different…

And then there’s the fact that my library app has several courses from Masterclass and The Great Courses by writers I want to learn from. I know there’s heaps of goodness in those videos and I can’t wait to watch them…except, well, I haven’t managed to watch them.

Yet.

I know there are so many good things to watch and participate in, but how do I choose what’s right for me?

I guess my Creativity will have some things to say on the topic. So I will hand over to her.

First of all, Creativities usually want to do ALL THE THINGS! But not necessarily all the things you’re thinking of. (The semantics of what “all” means could be debated at this point, but I would much rather face down a charging hippopotamus with raging indigestion than get into the weeds of semantics. Do I mean semantics? Or do I mean schematics?)

A healthy Creativity is just buzzing with ideas and any or all of those ideas could grow if you’re willing to pay attention to them and get them out of your head and onto paper, canvas, musical staff paper, pavement/sidewalk, hot air balloon, small rabbit—basically whatever medium and substrate you choose. (Not that my choice of rabbit as a substrate in any way condones animal testing, of course. But I imagine there must be a rabbit or two out there who yearn to meet an artist and be painted camouflage so they disappear into their scenery. No, wait, I live in Australia. That’s a terrible idea! Moving on!)

Where was I pre-rabbit?

Right, your Creativity’s ideas. The thing to remember is that ideas need to be fed. And the feeding of ideas is beyond your Creativity’s abilities. We’re a part of your mind, remember? And feeding requires outside work to bring in inspiration, delve into research, improve a skill, spend time in front of the page/canvas/hot air balloon, and consume muffins. Lots and lots of muffins, so Jessica tells me. Or rather banana bread, but muffins sounds funnier, doesn’t it?

So when you’re choosing to participate in activities that are designed to increase your enjoyment and creativity (using the lower case because we’re talking about the common noun, not the proper noun. What? I can grammar) you want to figure out what your Creativity (proper noun, see?) and the idea you’re bringing to life need.

Do they need to read something Victorian? Or do they need Edwardian? Do they need you to start a brand new novel in November, or do they need you to finish something else before you contemplate a new beginning? Do they need you to take in even more instruction on how to do the thing, or do they need you to JUST DO THE THING?! (Can you tell this is currently a point of contention? It feels good to get it off my chest and out my pigtails.)

I could go on, but I do believe I’ve made my point! Now, I’m off to track down a rabbit in need of an artistic flourish.

So, to boil down Creativity’s ramblings, before you decide on whether to participate in an activity, check in with your Creativity. What do they need you to do? What will feed your current crop of promising ideas?

For me, I don’t feel I need the goal of 50,000 words in a month. I’m still gently returning myself to a writing routine. 1,667 words a day for 30 days is not the goal I need. The goal I need is to write something, even something small, each day for 30 days. That will pull me to my writing rather than push me to do more. (For more on that, see my post about goals.) Too much of a push could do me more harm than good a this point. Gently does it. There’s always next November.

I also don’t need Dickens. What I need is science-fiction. I’m greatly enjoying a sci-fi short story collection and after that I really want to read a sci-fi classic that will prime me to a future writing project. I’m also gently returning to my love of reading so I’m trying to follow closely where my reading desires take me to ensure I properly return to the practice.

And yes, as you’ve seen from Creativity’s outburst above, I need to do the thing rather than just learn about the thing. I’ve recently done quite a bit of reading about writing (including a whole book on writing unforgettable characters [most of which I have forgotten, ironically enough, though that has more to do with the speed I read rather than the book]). I felt it was important to get some good advice in me before I reinstated my writing routine. But there is such a thing as too much advice.

Ideally one wants to learn something and then use it in the next thing one writes. I have read too many things too quickly. I needed the boost, but now I need to go back and start actually using the advice. (Thank goodness Kindle has a highlight function.) So it’s more about review and practice at this point. I get the point, Creativity! Or rather, I concede the point…

So what about you? What activities have you been tempted to participate in? How have you decided whether or not to do the activity?

How to Become a Completion Addict

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I came across this article I wrote several years back now and thought it was worth putting a link to it here. Its for all those creatives who love starting projects but struggle to continue or finish them (which is something I struggle with too!).

The issue is that we’re addicted to the high of new ideas. This article is about how to change that addiction so that we become addicted to finishing projects.

Here’s the link to Write to Done where the article was originally published. (There is a full-screen popup that appears within a couple of seconds of getting there. There’s a close button in the top right hand corner.)

When Dreams Make Sense: “You Have a Dog? That’s Incredible!”

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I am notorious for having excellent dream recall and having dreams worth recalling (which is always the trick, isn’t it?).

I won’t bore you with a brief retelling of previous dreams, though some of them are crackups in and of themselves. I write this because of one particular dream I had recently which stunned me in its lucidity and punchline.

Sometimes these kinds of dreams do actually make their way into stories, and this one has the potential to. But I’m so swamped with other writing projects at the moment that I just know the only way this will see the light of day is if I retell it here. And I would hate a perfectly good dream to go to waste!

The dream started with me wandering through an incredibly large indoor shopping mall, the kind which also has quirky shops around its outside. I had a vague idea that my purpose in being there was to meet someone and yet when I finally did bump into the person in question I had never met him before.

I was standing in a surprisingly quiet food court, surrounded by odorless meal vendors with tastefully colorful counter displays, when he approached.

He was a handsome man, with a laid-back disposition, an easy smile, and a slightly nervous habit of moving his weight from one foot to the other as he spoke. We fell easily into conversation and it was obvious from the get-go that there was an attraction between us.

In fact, the conversation was going so well that I found myself suddenly feeling very uneasy. I wanted to keep talking but I realized that too much talking when first meeting someone could lead to their sudden need to be anywhere but here with the understanding that they will likely never talk to me or acknowledge me in a crowded room again (I can be an epic conversationalist in real life, and in dreamland everything is intensified and my dream self seemed to see the inevitable problem on the horizon). I wanted the friendship to continue and I figured–in my sudden insecurity–that the best way for that to happen was for me to end the current conversation as soon as possible.

But how?

In my panic, I blurted out, “I really must go now and check on my dog.”

Which seemed, on the surface, a logical segue into a natural conversational conclusion.

Only, I had no dog. None.

Obviously, when awake, I would never have descended into such a dishonest ruse, but to my dream self it seemed like the best way to end the conversation, since it would appear that circumstances beyond my control were tearing us apart, rather than my sudden panic wanting me to be anywhere but here.

And so I barreled on with my deception, inserting gusto and detail with every sentence.

“He’s waiting outside,” I said, pointing to a nearby exit. “Tied up to a pole. I have to go check he’s okay.”

The man’s eyes widened with surprise. “You have a dog?” he cried in excitement. “That’s incredible!”

I laughed, in an attempt at nonchalance. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he said. “What kind of a dog?”

And as he said this I realized the utter idiocy of my mistake.

This was a person I wished to get to know better. Over an extended period of time, all going to plan. And I had just inserted a pet who did not actually exist into my life.

“Oh, you know,” I waffled. “A smallish kind of big dog.”

“Amazing,” he said, shaking his head. “I’d love to meet him.”

Here I swallowed, my dreamy mind frantically trying to figure out how I was going to make such a thing happen.

Now you would think it would be the easiest thing to suddenly alter reality (dream reality that is) to insert a canine companion at this point and backdate its insertion so that it existed long before this conversation ever took place, but it seemed in this case that was not an option. Instead I suddenly remembered a friend of mine who ran one of the little shops on the outside of the mall. He had a dog. I was sure of it. All I had to do was find the dog in question and enlist its help for a bit.

“I tell you what,” I said, the mental gears churning, “how about we meet up in half an hour?”

“Okay,” he said, not at all suspicious of why it would take me half an hour to locate a dog I supposedly had tied up just beyond the nearest exit. (Don’t ya love it when dreams cooperate? I doesn’t happen often, but when it does…you start to wonder what your dream has around the corner.)

With a hurried goodbye and a promise of meeting him in half an hour, I rushed out the exit into the intensity of sunlight bouncing off the mottled grey pavement and bounded along the row of shops facing the outside until I came upon the shop in question. It was a leather store, it’s bright yellow walls displaying bags and shoes and jackets and other leather-related what-nots. I dodged a few display tables laden with wallets and purses and then found myself breathless at the long, curved pay counter.

Where, it so happens, Jack Nicholson was standing.

Now while I do occasionally have cameo appearances from celebrities in my dreams, this was the first time Jack Nicholson had ever appeared. He was playing a wrinkled curmudgeon, yanked out of retirement to pay off a gambling debt, and who had long since lost interest in life. His character showed no hint of mental instability or sudden murderous intent so I counted myself fortunate and rushed headlong into the purpose of my visit.

“Say, Jack,” I began. “Could I borrow that dog of yours?”

The pooch in question suddenly appeared from behind the counter, a stocky, black Staffordshire Bull Terrier with a beautiful face, as far as Bull Terriers go.

Nicholson raised an eyebrow like he was about to ask a question, but then remembered his complete lack of interest in life. And so he filled in an invoice paper for a hundred dollars and pushed it across the counter to me.

“You’re selling me your dog?” I asked, simply for clarification.

“A hundred dollars. Want the dog or not?” was all he croaked.

I glanced down at the dog, seeing possibilities stretching out before me. After all, if I were to manage an ongoing relationship with the guy I’d just met (whose name had apparently never crossed my radar, something I would have to clear up pretty quick smart on further acquaintance) I would need the ongoing use of the dog. I wasn’t particularly au fait with the going rate for a canine, especially one who had already outgrown its puppy-ness (which I would have thought was worth half the price of purchase for most dog transactions) but one hundred dollars for the chance of getting to know dream-guy better was certainly hard cash I was willing to part with.

I signed the deal and promised the dough, since I didn’t have it on me at the time.

He nodded and said, “Just have her back by dinner.”

I blinked at him. “A hundred dollars for half a day?” I spluttered.

He nodded. “You signed it.”

My mind boggled for a moment at how I could have been stupid enough to not have asked for further details before committing myself to a transaction. But still, a hundred dollars to produce a dog before my future boyfriend in half an hour (or much, much less than half an hour now) was still worth doing and so I said, “No problem. I’ll kill her off before the day is out.” A spot of grief could certainly cement a relationship, I figured. And the guy might buy me a puppy to make up for it and I’d be on the winning side of everything.

“Kill her off?” said Nicholson, showing an interest in life for the first time in fifty years.

“Metaphorically speaking,” I added hastily. “This dog I’ll return in one piece before dinner. Promise.”

And with that I grabbed the lead of the dog in question (a lead which had just conveniently appeared, as leads often do in dreams) and we set off out of the shop.

As we meandered our way along the gray pavement which skirted a one way street, it quickly became apparent that the dog was not in any way trained. She yanked me from pillar to post and once or twice straight out into oncoming traffic. I quickly returned to the shop and asked Jack, “Is this thing house trained?”

He grunted. “Why would I have put that much effort in?”

“Right,” I said, remembering his complete disinterest in life. “Great. Home by dinner it is.”

And so we meandered in a zigzag pattern once again along the pavement, dodging the occasional car as I made a mental note of how easy it was going to be to create a plausible story of the doggie’s demise.

At one point the terrier got her paw somehow caught in her collar. I bent down to remove the limb from its constraint and when I straightened up again I found myself almost face to face with my future beau, he appearing just as handsome and easy-going as I remembered.

“Hi,” I said with a flustered grin.

“Hi,” he said, staring down at the dog.

The dog looked up at him with a fascination of her own.

“This is fantastic,” he said, his gaze locked with hers.

“She is great, isn’t she?” I said, feeling that a plug for the pet was definitely an appropriate thing to say at this point.

“I can’t believe you’ve got a dog,” he continued.

“Like dogs, do you?” I said. I was getting that warm glow you get when everything seems to be completely settling into place and you know you’re absolutely meant to be with this person.

“Not in the slightest,” he said, still staring at her. “I’m usually extremely allergic. But then I was talking to you for all that time and nothing happened and you suddenly told me you had a dog and I thought, ‘goodness, that’s a dog I absolutely have to meet!'”

I stared at him, my jaw having dropped. “You’re allergic to dogs?”

“Usually,” he said, finally glancing up at me. “Highly allergic.”

I looked at the dog.

Then I looked at him.

Then I looked back at the dog and wondered if I let her lead go right now whether she would meander in front of some oncoming truck.

And then I was rocked by an almighty sneeze emanating from my future beloved.

And when I looked back at him his eyes had swelled completely shut.

“Ah,” I said.

And at that moment my alarm went off and I woke up with a terrible feeling of disappointment which stuck with me until breakfast.

Thoughts on a New Blog

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Having now got my author website finally looking how I’ve always wanted, I can now turn my attention to starting a new blog.

I blogged for several years on my Creativity’s Workshop site, but had to stop back in 2014 due to health. The topic of creativity is one I’m passionate about and I did really enjoy my years blogging about it, but I eventually came to realise that I was spending all my time writing about writing and not actually writing the fiction I wanted to create. Rookie mistake, I know. But I made it and finally got wise to it.

So I don’t want to make the same mistake again. This blog isn’t going to be regular or scheduled. It’s not going to be filled with long, detailed posts about a unifying subject, though I’m  not ruling out the possibility of inserting a lengthy essay here or there if the mood takes me. It’s going to be different, but still very me. In fact, probably more me than my previous blog, if such a thing is possible.

I’ve been considering for a while now exactly what kind of an author blog I want to have. For a few years I’ve been at a loss.

I’ve decided I don’t want to write a blog about writing. There are plenty of other great blogs on that topic out there written by people who are far better at explaining the subject than I.

I don’t write consistently in one genre or about one topic to have a blog to do with that subject. As much as I admire blogs like 1880’s Girl (which you should check out if you’re not familiar with it), I just can’t tie myself consistently down to one time period, subject, or genre.

So I got to thinking about the kind of author blogs which appeal to me, the ones I find myself happily spending half an hour scrolling through if the mood takes me. One of the blogs on that list is by John Finnemore who writes radio shows for the BBC. (If you’ve never heard of Cabin Pressure, John Finnemore’s Souvenir Program, or Double Acts then check them out, they’re heaps of fun. They can often be found as podcasts on the BBC Radio site, although you can *cough cough* find clips on Youtube *cough cough*. Though if you like his style, I recommend purchasing the box set of Cabin Pressure since the episodes are all gold and build on one another.)

In his blog he informs readers when one of his shows airs on the radio and how to hear the podcast of it. He also provides some backstory to where the idea came from or how he wrote it. But there are heaps of other cool things he adds in to do with crazy facts and interesting things he encounters. He also includes from time to time (especially in December) doodles from his notebooks which are interesting in their own right.

Which got me thinking about what kind of blog I could write.

The thing that defines my fiction is that they are all stories I’m passionate about. I write with wild abandon in any direction my Creativity wants to go. (Forgive the capitalization there, but my Creativity is a voice in her own right and so I capitalize accordingly.) And that’s what readers love about my work. They won’t love every story I write (because I write in so many random directions that the only person who is likely to love all my work is myself) but they do recognize that passion and come to trust that if they pick up a Jessica Baverstock story I’ll have put my heart and soul into its telling.

Which brings me to the subject of this blog. I am going to make this blog a collection of the random things I’m passionate about. The new words I learn, the interesting facts I discover, the people and experiences I encounter, the thoughts that flit across my mind. Because I figure if you love my fiction because of my passion in writing it, you might just love to know the other things I’m passionate about–the things grab my interest and make me think “Hey, I wanna share that!”

I want this to be a fun, random, interesting place to come. A place where you can pop past when you’ve got a minute, when you want a laugh, or when you’re looking for a little lighthearted distraction. I will naturally mention on my blog when I’ve got a new release coming out. I might also give some back story about why I wrote the story–what got me passionate about the subject or character. But peppered liberally between those posts will be interesting, random things that caught my attention.

I write stories because something pops into my head, setting off a rainbow of possibility or a niggly pre-pearl-irritant and won’t leave me alone until I write it. It’s something that hits a chord–almost literally, as I feel like my mind hums with the idea like someone has struck a tuning fork in the back of my brain. It is this bright, incessant rush of possibility which leads to my stories and it is that feeling that I want to share in this blog. Because some of those moments, those flashes, can’t or won’t make it into stories. It’s those things I want to share with you.

So what do you think? Do you want to follow along? I won’t be blogging to a schedule. I’ll only post when I have something I feel is worth sharing. I don’t want to tie myself down to having to produce things whether I’m ready or not. So if I’m passionate or intrigued or amused by something, I’ll post. If I don’t have anything, I won’t. In that way I plan to provide you with a stream of posts which you might just enjoy browsing for half an hour or so when the mood takes you every few months, or something that pops randomly into your inbox to lighten your day.

If that sounds like something you’re interested in, then sign up for e-mail notifications at the top of the page. And if I don’t have an option to follow this blog that you’d like to have, let me know and I’ll see what I can do to accommodate you. In fact, that goes for the whole site. If there’s something you’d like to see, or you think would improve things, leave a comment or contact me directly and I’ll give it some thought. 🙂

So, here we go! A new blog. What fun awaits!