The Seed For Story & A Blank Page

The Seed For Story & A Blank Page

Though I turned my second stand-alone novel, The Midwife, over to my publisher on June 1, promotional work for The Outcast took up June and most of July. I also started preliminary edits for The Midwife that took up much of August.

These steps are a necessary part of being an author, and I am grateful for each and every one, as they allow me to meet dear readers like you. But I would be lying if I said that I do not miss the uninhibited time of front porch writing, with my daughter tucked in her crib inside and the hummingbirds zinging around the feeder above my head.

But today, for the first time in months, I got my old schedule back. There are certain days that you know are just going to be wonderful from the moment you wake up. Saturdays, for me, seem to fall into this category more often than the rest of the week.

The main reason for this is because, since we sold our business, my husband has been home every Saturday for the first time in almost five years of marriage. The second reason is because I have been out of town many weekends this summer, so whenever a Saturday stretches before me without any pressing engagements, it is just . . . bliss.

Our whole family slept in until eight; we made blueberry pancakes from scratch, then I got Miss A down for a nap, grabbed my laptop and slipped off to the porch to write while wearing a t-shirt and shorts that are about one step up from pajamas.

I have been tinkering with a story idea for a while now, even back when I was working on edits for The Outcast. Unbeknownst to him, my father was the one who planted the story inside my head, and it has been growing there ever since . . . tended by my imagination and own life experience.

When I sat down at my computer today, I opened the document and read the opening scene of my new story. After chopping half a page, I smiled. I reread it and picked at my split ends, thinking.

I stared out over the field, watched the doves peck at the moldering sunflower seeds that have spilled from the feeder, typed some more, and picked at more split ends. I passed almost three hours this way, which is how I used to spend almost all of my days (believe it or not, they were exciting!).

By the end, I only had a few pages written . . . but my creative mind was humming and my heart filled to the brim.

And so, though my Saturdays are pretty busy for the next little while, I will cherish this Saturday; this day of front-porch writing, split ends, new beginnings, and sunshine. I am also going to make a point to remember how this love for writing all began. It didn’t start with an obsession with Amazon rankings or Goodreads reviews, but with the beauty of creating a world from nothing but a seed of story and a blank page.

Readers and writers, how did your love for story begin?

PS~Fun announcement on August 28th, so check my Facebook author page for giveaway details!