Photo by Cara Lopez Lee I suspect that fellow writers will appreciate the idea of starting a New Year not with a goal to start something new but to finish something old. I’ve been writing a novel for several years. No matter how diligently I move forward, something always needs fixing. I’m not talking about some phony excuse to procrastinate, but actual problems: a conflict falls flat, a character feels one-dimensional, dialogue is missing, dialogue is redundant, internal life is absent, internal life is excessive and now momentum is absent...another draft, and another A couple of months ago, I took a painting class with my sister. We each created our own interpretation of the instructor’s sample creation: a moon shining through flowering branches. At one point, while I tried to create a tunnel-like sensation of moonlight, I kept going over one section that wasn’t quite working. The teacher took one look and said, “Stop. You’re going to ruin it.” I knew what she meant. I was...

’Tis the month of love (or heart disease); take your pick. We writers tend to have a similarly tempestuous relationship with our manuscripts, so I’ve written this list: O, Manuscript, How Do I Love Thee? Let Me Count the Ways…(just ten, don’t panic) 10. You’re new. You’re shiny. You’re brimming with bright, complex characters. 9. Those empty pages aren’t terrifying. They’re error-free. 8. You are my excuse for a computer browser history which can include undetectable poisons, eighteenth century table manners, last year’s Kentucky Derby winner and five different red velvet cake recipes.  7. I’m never alone. I have characters talking inside my head. (that’s normal, right?) Yes, they can wake me up in the middle of the night, but I'll take that over them not talking at all. 6. I now have the ability to type and eat simultaneously. 5. I can take all the lessons I learned from previous work and apply them to you . 4. I’m writing a new manuscript. I deserve chocolate. 3. ...

It’s winter here in Illinois, which means snow and ice. The other morning, because the sidewalks looked treacherous, I decided to take the street to work. As I trudged along, I noticed a car about three blocks ahead. I focused on it, wondering if it would turn or continue on towards me. Then the unexpected happened. Before I could do anything, I pitched forward, landing on my knees. The case with my laptop computer inside it hit the street beside me. The culprit was a pot hole, which I would have noticed if I’d not concentrated on looking ahead instead of where I was. I scrambled up and glanced around to make sure I wouldn’t get hit. The car I’d concentrated on had turned. None others were in sight. I took stock of my condition. Fortunately, I appeared to have suffered only scrapes and bruises on my knees and one elbow. My jeans were still intact. No one could even tell I’d fallen. Glad I’d got off so lightly, I continued on to the train station. Once seated on the train...