Their Eyes

They watched Cole. He hated audiences, despised being the center of attention. But there he sat, an exhibition for others to behold. Their eyes fixed on him. It made his skin squirm, like cockroaches skittering across his body.

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Freeway interchange

Destination

Call me a Plotter. I like to plan my writing. Not an etched-in-stone master copy. That’s not what I mean. Some writers work well that way, and more power to them. I like to think of my planning/outlining as a roadmap for driving from New York to L.A.
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Finger showing small text

Goal Update

Last week, I set a goal to edit 10 chapters, which would put me at the midway point in my manuscript. I knew this would require an extraordinary effort. I woke up early every morning. I stayed up later than usual every night (minus one). And guess what—I reached that goal! Pardon me while I celebrate.

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