Not writing... to write

It's been days if not a week since my last blog when I had been churning them out one after another. But I have a great reason for the delay, I am working on my books. Like to completion. I know I have blogged about wanted to really write not that putting words in this blog isn't writing. But I love writing books and novellas. I had put my books away digitally speaking for almost three and others five years. And I have been reading them and remembering that I love taking someone, even myself to somewhere where they are not themselves. Feeling things, seeing things, and all through the arrangement of letters. What amazing of magic is that?

I plan to self-publish a few novellas first and I have one full-length novel that once completed in the final edits. I think I may submit to a publishing house started by an acquaintance I met at a Writing/ Author's conference seven years ago this month. I thought I would be published within a year or two of meeting all these authors and writers.  Today is my time to wait no longer.

My muse has been busy fueled by a happy body and mind. I have been doing yoga, taking walks, seeing butterflies, meditating, working on my craft every day and doing something every day that brings me happiness. EVERY DAY.

Sorry so short...

Back to my novels.

Finding the beauty in the Taint-- or Fuel for my muse

When I was little I tended to be sick, I would surround myself with imaginary worlds within the library that I had amassed by the time I was in elementary school. I now realize there are people who get to be around live muses, not just paper, film and digital muses. My friends were on the pages and inspired me to write and create and dream. Then slowly a few real ones have trickled in my life sending butterflies to my brain.

In my recent flu/viral URI, I have watched documentaries on Greenwich Village and other art communities. Which made my brain a little jealous of people getting To surround themselves with peers in your neighborhood with the same drive to create; what a fun experiment in the creative positive flow. There were flows like that at Antioch in my sculpture class, writing classes and watching the manic kids work all night turning videotapes into a full-scale spider web. I have always believed we are given people for a reason or a season. I love when new or old people come into our lives and revive something in us that move us to step up to the next level or get back to our love. Over the last couple years, I had some great editing and writing partners and I have since fallen out of regular contact with them and miss the conductivity between two minds helping one another in a creative process. That sharing was very intimate, especially a novel, or three.

I am not a very social person. I love talking to people one on one or in very small groups but anything else scares me shitless. To share my writing with anyone is like showing someone my boobs. I am no woo-girl. I am not at the bar flashing every person who buys me a shot of lemon drop.

The only reason I press send on this Blog is I assume Yes, Virgina you are my the only real reader. Where in the world is my reader? That should be the bonus in the comment section. I digress.


Finding our own Greenwich Village, no matter where we live. I am sending out to the universe that I want to be surrounded by more artists of all mediums. My best friend is a choreographer and dancer. I recently have been re-introduced to a writer/photographer whom I hadn't spoken with in 22 years. His photos have shown me beauty in Cincinnati that I didn't realize existed.


My mind had become so tainted to the ugliness of Ohio because of the burnout I feel in other areas of my life that I had stopped looking for the beauty that is still around us.