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.

How we misjudge

How many of us have stopped following a dream because someone else has told us or we have believed they have said of us negative causing us to question our self. Or was there that guy in High school that you longed after wishing you would have asked him out in the lab but never did because you just know he would have said no?


My love for words started in Middle School. I still have binders and notebooks of sappy poems, short stories and other creative writing ventures I tried over the years. In high school, I wrote for my school newspaper and even was co-editor my senior year.

Then when I was accepted to Antioch and placed in a remedial English class for the few of us who sucked at writing based on a summer reading assignment. Why hadn’t anyone before now told me I sucked? The devastation was on par with a tornado or divorce it meant I could not be a writer; so I never wrote again--
Until 2009, when I was reading books by Charlaine Harris the author of the Sookie Stackhouse novels. I read them, loved them, and thought I could totally write books like this. And I started writing again. Fast forward blur blur blur. Three novels unpublished and over 250 blogs later and I have to wonder how much better of a writer would I be if I had not stopped for over fifteen years?


No one ever said 'DANYEL YOU SUCK'! But being placed in a class that not everyone had to take made me feel stupid. I had just passed AP English with a B. I was so confused. I did not realize until years later that Antioch was not only teaching me grammar but to write my own genuine thoughts. The paper they graded was regurgitated from the book I read. Me and my high school had failed to find Danyel’s voice blending facts from the book with my opinions. That is why I was placed in the writing course, not because of my suckitude. *which are grammar rules, I know I have not a drop of the rules.
My true hippie happiness if I am completely honest is reading something I wrote and thinking, 'that is so awesome, someone else must have written that'. Then remembering that it was me, and I smile.