After finishing 1^st draft of a novel, I have the characters, dialogue, scenes, and a plotline. I used to think this meant I knew where the story was going, and what the book was about.

I have learned over the years, this ain’t so.

As I work through its 2^nd draft, characters start to nudge each other. The story itself takes its first soft and shallow breath, and one could imagine he hears a little bit of a heartbeat. Passions deepen, and emotional threads start to weave through what had earlier just been little more than a sequence of events.

On the 3^rd run through, the characters stand tall. Some break free of my earlier concepts of what they were all about, what they wanted, how they related to each other, and where they were going.

From then on, THEY set the pace, and I do my best to honor them in becoming what THEY choose to be.

From then on, my friends; we have a story!

By the end of the 3^rd draft, I have enough of an idea of where the characters are going, and how their passions empower the story, or tear it apart, that I can start cutting away, and cutting away, anything that isn’t that.

Until we reach the point where there is not a single word left anywhere in the book, that isn’t a vital, dynamic, organic contributor to the living whole.

An awkward, irregular moon, like a squeezed-out teardrop, or something caught while falling, hung frozen in place over Paulette.
Trees whispered, though she saw none of them stirring. She felt her deeper heart calling….
… Her eyes ceded control, opening to those pulsing glows and darting spheres that had been greeting her recent nights in the woods. … High noon was for those who could only see “stuff.” Night was for those of a more magical nature. For those who loved mystery. Beyond the world of dense physical forms is a realm that flows everywhere unbroken.
Whatever these lights were, they thrived in that world. One of the glowing forms drew closer now, almost as though taking a look at her. But then almost immediately it moved on again; going about its business, whatever that might have been.
Paulette thought of Mary. Perhaps the only person she had ever truly loved. Can the spirit of someone released too soon from life wander the forest? Is that what these were; were they spirits? Could Mary’s be wandering happy somewhere until her time came and her place in Heaven was ready for her?
If there even was a Heaven.
If there was a God who cared and understood; who let you in even after you had taken your own life.
“Oh God, if you exist,” Paulette prayed in passionate silence, “Please give sweet Mary a rest.”
One tree stirred, and one tree only.

Come along – I would love to meet and chat with you.

Today we move into the chapters of denouement for the first draft. Things will either come together, or fall tragically apart, and not even the author knows who might die. But everyone will certainly be changed!

“The mind and the brain are not one and the same. The brain is only an organ, a material vehicle, through which the mind is able to function and operate on the physical plane. The mind does not require or use the brain when it functions on other, non-physical planes of existence. The brain only lasts for the duration of one lifetime but the mind continues on. The mind and the ability and action of thinking are something metaphysical, not physical or material.” – HPB

We love stories that slam our favorite fictional characters with unforgivable, unresolvable problems. We find ourselves crying aloud, “Oh no; they cut off her head; how’s she ever going to marry him now?”

We despise amateurish authors who keep trying to ride obvious and wearied clichés out of trouble, telling us once again this was only a dream.

Depression is a non-life. It just sits there, not stirring. Like you’re mired in the silence and sludge at the bottom of a stagnant sea. Now and then a dim, fuzzy wad of something hangs above, a brief distraction from your comforting gloom, but it hurts to be reminded there is still life in any form. So you snuggle back into your sludge. Snug it in like a thick, fuzzy blanket around your heart, welcoming the dull, slow non-rhythm of pain and numbness.
Depression sticks to your soul, layers around and within you, suffocating all hope.
I may have lost years to this emotional cancer after Julie pulled away. Depression is a timeless state. Each second is interminable. This hideous strangling darkness drew in ever tighter and more dank; closer than my skin because skin is only on the outside.
There was a big ugly hole in my world, and nothing to plug it with but misery.
-From “Entertaining Naked People” – a book from someone who has worked his way free from crippling depression to a life of joy, peace, and magic.

August 28th, 2015
My books are far from formulaic. I could never let myself write just another bodice ripper much like the others, or whip out a “new” thriller mystery or vampire saga every few months, doing little more than change the names and places. My books are living worlds the reader herself can live and breathe in.
I’ve been developing ideas for this latest one for years. I now have scores, maybe hundreds of pages of ideas and character essences and …
But when I decide to stick some poor human worker bee in a cubicle I have to THINK about what he might have on his desk; what co-workers dress like. what they feel along their way home.
But this is still not a worthwhile read for me if it is no more than characters acting out a story.
Today the new novel came alive. For the first time I felt myself inside someone’s home, heard the rustle as folks moved around, or their sad resigned breathing as they just sat there inert. Their teacup pig chewed on something in the corner and I named the fellow based on the sound he made.
His name is Snerker.
Today this new book came to life, and from here on in, the characters can help write it around them.
This afternoon saw the birth of “The Soul Hides in Shadows”.

Asked to list 10 things about myself:
1. In one of my past life memories I was burned at the stake.
2. In another of them my poor starving parents gave me away to the church when I was still a little boy. I hated that.
3. In this life I lived on a cruise ship in the Caribbean for a while.
4. During my career as a massage therapist I have massaged or met a good number of celebrities. I’ve rubbed among others the first President Bush, Vanna White, and a whole lot of athletes I didn’t know because I’ve never had any interest in sports.
5. I have never had any interest in sports.
6. I live in the mountains of North Carolina, but my girlfriend lives in England, so we trade back and forth, spending months at each home.
7. While in Europe we investigate major spiritual centers and spooky places including haunted ancient graveyards and castles.
8. I once walked out into the fury of Hurricane Andrew in Miami just to see how strong it was.
9. I fell while climbing a waterfall once and busted my head open.
10. So I might be making the rest of this stuff up.