

Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Every day for the last seven, I’ve sat down to write thinking, is this the day this novel’s first rough draft is finished? Then I write like crazy, and no, ‘The End’, is not found. I know the end but I’m a pantser. The territory between the beginning and end is a dark continent. I work my way across it to ‘The End’ with only vague navigational markers about where I need to go to get there. I set down ground rules but the characters and muses drive the novel.
That’s the way I like it.
Writers and their quirks…

Now I’m at that exciting, challenging, edgy time during the writing process. I’m in the first draft, and the middle. It’s all flow, bursting out like fast-moving magma. Like witnessing a huge event. Think seeing a disaster, a political rally, a football game. It’s almost overwhelming; focus must be found and kept. Everything is sucked in for processing, to be written in coherent fashion, coherent enough to keep moving the story toward the end.