hawthorne books

My manuscript did not win in the PNWA historical fiction category, but this morning I’m feeling pretty good about the entire experience .

I was a finalist!

I heard some inspiring speakers, including Greg Bear and Deb Caletti.

I met Margie Lawson, a psychologist, writer, and writing instructor I had never even heard of. She gave workshops on topics such as visceral emotion and rhetorical devices, all of which I already know (don’t I?) and yet I (gasp, groan) have fallen back into my prologue and first two chapters. For now, my nagging doubts about how to proceed with my unassailable rewrite are scattered.

Of course I bought a big bag full of books and got some of them autographed.

I met other writers who are on this journey, too. (No writer writes alone–conference motto.)

I thought often of my daughter Pearl at the American Idol auditions. When anxiety threatened (I really would have liked to win a prize, competitive person that I am), I thought of Pearl bravely singing in front of the AI producers, one of thousands of other unknown teens and 20-somethings.

And this morning, I got up early, filled my thermos with coffee, walked out to my potting shed, and spent two hours writing.

It’s all good.


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