Saturday, 21 January 2017

You Are Enough

Remember when I said I might write a happier post in a few days? Well, here it is.

You are enough.

There are voices in your head that whisper: you are not enough. But you are enough.

There are people who say to you, "you are not enough," but you are enough.

There are things you think you need to do or be or say to make you enough. To make you have value and worth, but you are enough. Just as you are now, you are enough. You have value and worth now, simply by breathing. You are enough.

You may think you’re not enough for life. You just can't do life right. You don't deserve the space you are taking up on this planet and maybe you were one of the people meant to die. But let me tell you, that you are enough. You are not destined to take your life. No one is. People are not made to kill themselves. They are made to live. They are made to love. You have purpose. You are enough.

Maybe you don't think you're enough for God. Find a new one. You are enough for God. You cannot be any more "enough" if you tried.

Maybe you're atheist and you don't think you could ever be enough for anyone. But you are wrong. You are enough. Some people might say you're not, I say, "find new people".

If you're agnostic caught in between, you are enough too. Don't let anyone say otherwise.

This post might seem a little Pollyanna, but it’s true. You can’t not be “enough”, because that would imply there is something fundamentally wrong with who you are as a person. And you can’t change that. There is nothing implicitly wrong with you. You’re just being you, and that’s perfectly okay.

Being enough is not being the best, being perfect, or finally doing that one thing that will make your life great and gain you all the approval you could ever want. Being enough is being who you are and recognizing that your worth is not based on things that you have or do, but on who you are. You cannot be more of yourself. You are enough as you are.

Thursday, 12 January 2017

The Literary Apocalypse

Decided to do the flash fiction challenge from Chuck Wendig's blog. You can check him out at terribleminds.

These are the last words that might ever be written. I warned them that it was coming. I warned the others. But they didn't listen. Why do they never listen? They thought it was a game. They never dreamed the law would past. They thought the club was just for fun. Something to do when they were bored. But they were wrong. So wrong. And now they've "disappeared" and it's just me Ally. It's just the two of us left to fight for the written word. For the truth.

I still don't understand how this all came about. I saw it coming, sure, but why? I never saw the "why". Until yesterday.

I was walking down the street. Words, written ones, anyway, were nearly eradicated by this point already, but it wasn't illegal. It wasn't a federal offence. People just thought it was archaic. They didn't need to read or write, they just asked their machine of choice and it did everything for them. It would surf the web and find the answers. It would control the oven temperature, lock your doors. People didn't read for pleasure or anything now. The machine read it all too them. New "books" were transcribed by voice. Company signs were now just images and logos, no letters, of course. No one owned a pen or paper or even a pencil. It took quite a bit of money and secrecy to come by the one in my hand now, but I had to do it. I had to warn the future.

Little by little they eroded away our dependence on writing and reading, and that gave them full control. Without written words to confirm the accuracy of what people said, they could just put in whatever loop they wanted. There were people who tried to tell the truth with their voice, but they controlled the media. Secret recorders were sent around by people who knew what was going on, but they sent out a signal to distort the recording so it couldn't be listened to. Pen and paper was the only way to get a message out, but the majority had never learned or had forgotten how to read and write. And only a select few like me and Ally, had banded together to stop what was happening. But I think we might be too late. I don't know if the world can be saved. And I don't know if it will matter in a few days. They’ve been purging everyone with the slightest connection to our group, and any group of our kind. Soon only the ignorant and the willfully quiet will remain, and they will have full control.

Bryan looked up from his writing. Ally had just slipped in the door, a nervous look on her face.

"Is it done?" Bryan asked.

"Yes," she whispered, going over to the crib off to the side. They're baby girl lay sleeping, blissfully unaware of what was happening. She was their last hope. Maybe the world's last hope. And she had no idea what was even going on. She was only two months.

Ally turned from the baby and looked over Bryan’s shoulder at what he had wrote.

"You told them about us?" Ally asked, quickly scanning the page. "Why?"

"Because they need to know our story, Ally. They need to know what this cost us."

Ally frowned but didn't say anything. They both knew what was likely to happen to them, and they both were willing to pay the price. They couldn't do anything to stop what was happening, but maybe someone in the future could. Maybe their daughter could save the future.

"Just a little further," Ally said, carrying the baby in a basket. They were on their way to a sanctuary, where they prayed someone would find their daughter and raise her as their own. It was the best they could do for her.

Bryan was following a little behind, mentally going over the last words he had written.

Some might wonder why it is so important to protect the past, but it is not the past you are protecting, but the future, dear child of mine, whom I will never know, will never see grow into a strong, talented woman. But I hope I can impart some wisdom to you. I hope you can learn the value of words, and that words, written words, hold the truth of the world. Even these are not fool proof, but if a person can no longer voice their opinion in the written word without fear of being persecuted, then we are no longer free as a society. We are all slaves living to the whim of our master. Voice recordings are not enough. They can be tampered with. It is harder to tamper with something that has been written out by hand.

It was too late for us. But child, and whoever else is reading this, maybe you can change the future. It wasn't always like this. Things were different once upon a time ago. Maybe you can restore them.

With love, Bryan and Ally

It was almost time. Ally set the baby down in the basket outside a building. It was the community centre for the sanctuary. Bryan looked around, then took the folded pieces of paper and tucked them inside the onesie of their baby, so no one would see. They didn't give the child a name. They hadn't dared to. Names were traceable. Dangerous. It would be easier for her if she started fresh. Bryan only hoped that whoever found her could be trusted with what was written on the paper. Otherwise this was all futile.

"Come on," Bryan said, tugging on Alley. "We have to go. Before someone sees."

With a last look at her daughter, Ally nodded. She would have liked to have said something in the letter, but it was Bryan who had the gift with words, not her. But she trusted him enough to know what to say.

It was starting to snow now. They hurried back up the hill they'd come from, wanting to get away from the sanctuary as soon as possible. They had an escape route planned, but they both knew they weren't going to make it. Neither of them were surprised when a group of soldiers stopped them just a few mile from the sanctuary.

"Kneel," one of the soldiers bit out. Ally and Bryan did as they were told, and kneeled in the mud and dirt on the road. It was the end. They both knew it.

"I love you," Bryan whispered, as he turned to look at Ally one last time.

"I love you, too," she said, a single tear slipping from her eye.

The soldier watching this display remained emotionless. He pointed the gun at Ally, and then Bryan, pulling the trigger as if he were doing something as simple as pulling out weeds.

"And that," said the history professor, "is what happens to traitors. People who betray the truth of this glorious country. Questions?"

A boy in front with dark hair raised his hand.


"What happened to the baby?"

"It was killed, of course."

A girl with brown hair cast her eyes down. Her name was Gabriella. She knew what story the government pushed, but she knew the real truth. The baby didn't die, it had survived. She knew because Ally and Bryan were her great grandparents. Ella, that was the name the baby had been given, had been taken in by a kind old couple, but hadn't been able to do anything to fight back. It was enough trouble just to stay alive and keep what Bryan had written safe. But she made sure to pass on what was written to her daughter, Gabriella's mother, who had given the papers to her just last week, when she had turned 21.

Gabriella ran a finger over the smooth paper in the inside pocket of her coat. The paper was worn thin from the years. She couldn't read it, but she didn't dare let it out of her sight. She knew how important it was. If her great grandparents had died to protect it, then it had to be important. She didn't know how, but she was going to find a way to read it. And maybe, just maybe, she could finish what her grandparents had started.

Monday, 2 January 2017

A New Year

Hi. It’s me. I’ve risen from the dead. Again. *sigh*

a new year
So last year around this time I wrote something about New Year's Resolutions being crap, and about starting a blog challenge that I only followed through on to day 3. It’s weird reading it back. It seems like a totally different person. It also seems like I was trying to say resolutions are crap while inadvertently setting resolutions and then not following through on them. In fact, all of 2016 wasn’t too great of a year for blogging. I only posted 18 times, compared to 46 in 2015. I’m also seriously worried about my skills, as I don’t think the posts are that great. But not everything we write is gold, right? And that’s how we get better. We write, and then we keep writing, and then when we think we’re the worst writer on earth, we write some more. And maybe someday it pays off. It’s when we stop writing (or doing other creative things) that we have to worry.

I’ve been in a weird space lately. I was feeling happy the few days leading up to Christmas, but I think it was mainly because it’s hard not to get excited about Christmas to some degree. And I don’t just mean presents. I mean everything that Christmas represents. Love, family, giving, just being with the people you care about. It has a kind of happiness that sneaks in when you’re not looking. At least it did for me this year. I understand that some people can have a hard time at Christmas, and that it isn’t a good time for them. And I don’t have much I can say about that. Saying “you’re sorry” or “that’s unfortunate” doesn’t really cut it. All you can really do is listen to someone if they’re hurting at Christmas. But for a lot of us, Christmas is generally happy.

But after Christmas this year, I struggled. I had a rough couple of days. I don’t think anyone really noticed because I don’t tell people when I’m struggling. And I know that sounds kind of bad. I’ve often wondered if I should talk to someone, but for whatever reason (usually money, and me not thinking it’s necessary), I decide not to. I deal with the dark thoughts through writing and through talking with God. I say “talking” instead of “praying” because I don’t want to give the impression that I’m on my knees asking God to take away the pain or something (although there is nothing wrong with that). Rather I’m sitting on my bed crying to Jesus about all the fears and the doubts I have, telling him about how I feel broken and I don’t think I can keep doing this anymore. And He listens. He just lets His presence be there and He listens to my pain.

What’s been bothering me the most lately is doubt. I’ve been doubting myself. It’s one thing to work toward a goal and believe even when you’re not getting very far with it. It’s another thing entirely to start think maybe you just can’t do it. Maybe you’re never going to get to where you want to be. Not because of outside influences, but because you can’t do it. You’re not good enough. You’re not strong enough. You just can’t make it. (To clarify, these are doubts. I’m not saying I believe this all the time. But sometimes I lose faith in myself and I lose hope that I have for the future).

I didn’t mean for this blog post to get this personal or this sad. I didn’t mean for it to be this long. I was only going to write a couple of paragraphs about how I didn’t do so great last year, but this year things were going to be different. Something on the surface. Something that didn’t really matter. That didn’t bear my soul to the world. That didn’t make me worry about whether someone I know will see this and what they’ll think of me.

I don’t really know what to do. I want to be honest on my blog, but I want to keep things “safe” too. But I don’t think those two things are compatible. I also don’t know if anyone even cares. I’m just writing down my thoughts. Perhaps you find them quite boring. But somehow when I try to write posts that don’t go very deep into my life they end up being a little fluffy. Not too bad, but, they’re just not that great, you know? Not that I’m saying the type of post I’m writing is great. But at least it’s real. It’s not fluff. It’s not “how can I write about a topic I don’t care about and then relate it to my book so that people will buy it?” I’m starting to wonder if maybe I should just give up blogging and just post updates about my books on my blog. I still have Twitter and Instagram to connect with readers. Maybe I don’t need a blog. But then again almost every writing advice article or blog will tell you that you need a blog. Problem is, I kind of suck at blogging.

If you like this kind of post could you please tell me? I don’t care if you leave a comment on the blog, or Twitter, Instagram, or G+. Could you just tell me that you liked it, if you did, or if it helped you somehow? Maybe you’re a little uncertain about things like me, or in a weird space right now. Feel free to tell me about that. I don’t get many messages, so chances are I’ll respond to you. Anyway, try to have a good start to 2017. Even though this post is kind of sad(?) I do have hope for the future. I just don’t always remember it. Maybe I’ll write a happier post in a few days.

Saturday, 12 November 2016

I Can't Blog

I can’t blog. I’ve been pretending for far too long now. I try to write posts related to my books. Or I try to write a post on a happy, positive topic. But I can’t. I can’t do it. When I try to do it, it comes out forced. I don’t think it’s too horrible. I still think it’s okay. It just doesn’t seem, I hesitate to say great, but it just seems off, you know? Like a part of me is missing.

I Can't Blog
Blogging is hard for me. I never really got a handle on what the hell I’m supposed to blog about. Fiction is easy. Fiction comes straight from my heart and even if I’m not feeling particularly “inspired” I can still get into it pretty easily. But I can’t do that with blogging. That doesn’t work. I think of ideas and then they seem stale when I go to write them, or I can’t think of anything to say. And when the words do flow, when I do get an idea for a post, it’s sad. It’s about depression. It’s unhappy. It’s not related to my books. Nor really. And every post seems to be negative, and I don’t know what to do about that. I don’t post them, because I’m not supposed to. Because I don’t want people to think that I’m suicidal, which really I’m not, but I’m not entirely happy where I am in life. And so I don’t post them. And writing them is therapeutic, but then I still don’t have anything to post on my blog, and I’m back to square one.

I read a blog post on Kristen Lamb's website (sorry I don’t know the exact post), and she talks about blogging for an author platform, but also because it’s fun. And that’s great for her. I want to blog because it’s fun too. And I do like blogging. But what happens when everything I blog about is sad or negative or about religion (haven’t broached that one yet on this blog, but wouldn’t mind doing some posts), and I don’t want to blog about happy things or positive things because I’m not exactly happy right now. I’m not okay (but that’s okay). How do I reconcile this with my books? Hell, is this blog even really going to impact my books that much? At all? Or does it really matter that much what I blog about? I mean, Chuck Wendig blogs a lot about writing and pop culture, and I suppose about things related to his books sometimes, but not all the time. And it seems to work for him. And it’s not like anyone’s really reading this blog. I get like 20 views per post. But if you are
one of the people reading this blog, know that I really do appreciate you, and I’d love it if you’d say hi in the comments.

I get branding and finding an audience are important, and that blogging can help me do that, but I just don’t know if I have it in me. I need to write what’s on my mind, even if no one sees it. And I don’t know if I can just write about something like, I don’t know, something related to romance books just for the hell of it. Like separating me from we in a relationship. Not that I’m opposed to that sort of thing, I just don’t think it’s me. I need to write about what’s affecting me right now, and I’m not good at writing blog posts that I’m not emotionally connected to.

Maybe I just haven’t given it enough time. I haven’t exactly blogged regularly. Maybe I’d get better at it as I went along. But somehow I fear I wouldn’t. That it just wouldn’t work. Maybe I should just say “fuck it” and post the posts I’m not supposed to post.

What do you think?


You knew a book plug was coming. 

Last Chance for Love: A Christmas Short Story by [Howitt, Emily]Alicia and Christmas have never mixed well. It was like the holiday was out to get her. But now a ghost is showing up in her room, telling her that time is running out. This Christmas might be the last chance she has at happiness. Well she find it? Or will the pattern of bad luck continue?

Available at these markets. Just click on your store.

Sunday, 30 October 2016

The Joy of Fear

halloween fearSo Halloween is on Monday and it made me think about humans and why we enjoy scaring ourselves so much. Because that’s basically what Halloween is about. It might have started off as scaring away the undead, but now it’s just about scaring the living. Well, and candy. Lots of candy. Like so much candy that we could probably build a wall. But then people would just eat the wall, and we’d probably all get sick. And the exercise would have been pointless…but why am I talking about walls?

Back to fear. We like to be scared. Why? Probably because we get a high off of it. That’s why people jump out of perfectly working airplanes. To get a high. Because apparently life isn’t exciting enough for them. Or they couldn’t find any cocaine that day (joking. Drugs are bad, children). In short, it’s fun. It’s fun to dress up in silly costumes and try to scare each other in a safe environment. That’s a safe kind of fear. Like watching a horror movie. You get to live vicariously through the characters, but there’s no one standing behind you with a giant ax. If there is, then you should probably run. And for the love of god, don’t run upstairs, and don’t trip in the forest. And maybe do something other than scream and weep if he (or she) is coming at you. Just a thought.

So what’s the point? Because while fear can be fun, we often run away from it. We’re often terrified of everything like Dave from Survivor. We often run around trying to protect ourselves from the remote possibility that a deranged grizzly bear jumps out at us from behind that tree.

The thing about fear is that you can’t eradicate it. When you try to eradicate it, it grows stronger, and it starts attacking you more aggressively. Sure, you can dampen fear, you can push it away and try to ignore it, but it will always resurface somewhere in your life and you need to learn to live with that. We all do. So many times we try to play fear off as just a nuisance or something silly, or something we can get over like the common cold. But we can’t. And we shouldn’t. Even when we’re tempted to make everything seem perfect and alright, we can’t. Because it’s not possible.

All I’m saying, is that Halloween is a reminder that while we often think of fear as something fun at times, we needn’t let it get the best of us when it’s not so fun. It might be hard to live with fear, but the thing about that is the more you live with it the more you get used to it. I’m not saying to live in fear, I’m saying to realize that fear can’t be tidied away, and that you have to do things despite your fear if you want it to go away.

So, have you dealt with the big bad fear grizzly before?


Check out Playing in the Dark if you want some creepy poetry to read this Halloween. All about blood, sacrifice, and killing people. With maybe a little bit of love mixed up in there. Just for fun.

Saturday, 22 October 2016


Cat Grant is honestly my favourite character on Supergirl. She might be a little bit crazy, insane, and not quite possible in the real world, but everything she stands for and represents is so inspiring. Especially to creatives like me and hopefully you, who are trying to find our place in this world and carve out our own little section of it to call our own. If you don’t watch Supergirl, then you probably have no idea what I’m talking about, but the things I’m going to talk about in this post can still apply to you, even if you’re not a creative (which I think we all are at some level, but that’s another post).

Warning: there are a few spoilers coming up (but not too many) if you haven’t watched the first episode of season 2 of Supergirl yet. Also, I haven’t watched the second episode, so please refrain from saying anything about it. Thank you.

At the end of last season on Supergirl, Kara (a.k.a Supergirl) is given the opportunity to pick a new job by Cat Grant, any job she wants. And she’s floundering horribly at the start of the second season. Like literally drowning. She has no idea what she wants to do. That’s when Cat Grant steps in and starts talking about diving into water.

Cat Grant Supergirl

Dive. That is what Cat Grant says to Kara. Dive. The waters look appealing but they also look rough, and cold, and hard. When you get to the other side, you’ll be a changed person. But you need to dive, or you stop living.

Here’s a link if you want to hear for yourself what Cat Grant says. (It's after the part where Kara is talking to James).

I know this is advice that has been around for a while. If you want to grow, you need to leave your comfort zone. You need to be okay with not being okay. But Cat Grants says it so simply and so forcefully that it really hits home for me. We all need to take her advice. We all need to dive into that water and dare ourselves to live life in an unfamiliar place.

It’s one thing to dream about what you want to do. To imagine yourself doing something and getting a kind of joy from that thing without really doing it. But you’re cheating yourself if you do. You’re robbing yourself of what might be and wasting away your life with daydreams. So I have one thing to say to you if you’re stuck on the edge.


P.S. This next bit is only related to the show and contains a spoiler so stop reading if you don’t want to know. But I can’t believe Kara chased James for the entire freaking last season and now she decides she doesn’t want to be with him anymore. WTF *rolls eyes*

Thursday, 1 September 2016

How to Skin a Novel

Writing a novel is hard. Like really hard. Those things are long. And they have so many words. And pages. And the characters keep wanting to go off and do things that aren’t in the outline. Stupid characters. But you have to let them breathe, because, like, otherwise they’ll commit fictional suicide or start murdering all your other characters and then everyone is just dead at the end of your story. Which, I guess, sort of worked for Hamlet. But ideally you want some people left alive at the end. Anyway, tangent over. Let’s get to the post.

Ever wonder the different ways of skinning a cat? Er…I mean novel. Where did that expression come from anyway? Why are there people who want to skin a cat? And why do they need multiple ways to exact the skinning of a cat???? Moving on. There are different ways to write a novel. I’m going to talk about them in this blog post. They can also apply to short stories, or novellas, or any other length of writing. They could even work for non-fiction. But, tangents aside, here are the different ways of writing a novel:
how to write a novel

Stream of Consciousness

Stream of consciousness is an actual literary technique coined by William James in 1890. It is when the writer tries to mirror what the characters are actually thinking, rather than making things easier to understand for the reader. That is not to say that the writer is trying to make it hard for the reader, but that the writer is trying to represent the actual thought process. That is, what the characters are actually thinking in the moment. If you’ve ever read William Faulkner, he uses this technique in his stories. As does Virginia Woolf. Although be warned about Faulkner. He likes to write paragraphs that are pages long, and sentences that are paragraphs. Yes, you read that right. He really adheres to the stream of consciousness thing. If you want to try this method for your characters, go for it. But in regards the actual novel writing, I mention this technique more for you, then for your characters. What I mean is, you just sitting down and letting whatever comes out of your head flow onto the page or the screen. Letting your hands just clicky-clacky, or scribbly-scribble without worrying about which character is doing what. Letting your stream of consciousness make its way onto the page. In short, don’t censor what you write, just let it be.


I don’t have a fancy background info for this technique. I’m not sure who started it, but I’m trying it right now with one of the novels that I’m working on. I’m writing about a Christian who got kicked out of his house by his parents for doing drugs, and I’m writing it in scenes. Instead of starting at the beginning of the novel, I’m writing out the scenes that I plan to put in the novel. And I don’t mean as an outline, I mean the actual writing of the scene. Like when the main character and his girlfriend are homeless on the street and they run into another homeless kid. I would write that scene out until it came to an end. The benefit of this technique is that you’re not waiting to get to a scene that you really want to write. This can also help with writer’s block because you’re working on the scenes you already have in mind and not trying to figure out what happens before you get to those scenes. I haven’t finished the novel, so I don’t know how well this method will work, but I’m thinking it might end up like one of those books that don’t really have “proper” chapters, and just have a bunch of “sections”.

how to write a novelWrite 2000 Words a Day…or Something Like That

This is from those writers (like Stephen King) that say (as the subtitle suggests) you should write 2000 words a day. Like chain yourself to the chair and don’t you move until those 2000 words are done or the world will implode. I guess this isn’t so much a method of writing as a how to get that novel written. But I think it belongs on this list. Because this is a way of writing a novel. If you sit down, and just write until you hit 2000 words, then your novel will get written eventually, even if it’s epically long, as in the 200 000 word category. Suffice it to say, this method is more about putting in your time, and living with the characters each day. Letting the novel become a daily part of who you are, so much so that you begin to blur the line between reality and fiction, and later you’ll say something to someone that didn’t actually happen, and eventually they’ll commit you to a psychiatric ward. But don’t worry, you can make up all the stories you want there, and no one really cares if they’re real or not. Anyway, 2000 words a day equals novel will indeed be skinned in time.

Less Words a Day…Maybe

Was going to call this one “short bursts” but decided not to. It’s basically the opposite of the one just mentioned. Some people have issues sitting still for a long time, or coming up with a lot of words at one time. So they write less words at a time. Instead of writing until you hit 2000, write for a half hour, or twenty minutes, here and there throughout the day. Sometimes half an hour is all you can give. And that’s okay. Despite willing time to stop, it doesn’t. And if you have figured out a way to do that, I’d love to hear about it in the comments section.

Hemingway tips for writing a novelErnest Hemmingway

I call this one Ernest Hemmingway, because it is fashioned after his style of writing. The way he would write a novel, is he would write a bit, then the next day before he started writing again, he would read over what he wrote, and then continue. He claimed this kept the characters consistent. Then after the book gets too long to read everything from the beginning, just read the last few chapters and read the entire book once a week. I’m trying this method with a novel I’m working on about a woman who is in an abusive relationship, but is also a murderer, as is her abuser. I find that I like this method, and it helps to edit as you go, but this method takes time. Reading over what you wrote can be beneficial, but if you only have an hour or so of writing time, most if not all of that time gets taken up by rereading. I think this method would be best used if writing was your day job, or if you could afford to spend hours at a time writing.

Outline Happy

This method isn’t really about the actual writing, but I include it here because it’s pretty close. Some authors like to plan things out before they write. Like really plan. I’m talking chapter numbers, and scene outlines, and putting their character from kindergarten into an Ivy League school. They know what is going to happen so there will be no surprise or death shall rain down upon the fictional creatures who dared oppose the Author God. Okay. Not quite like that. But suffice it to say, they plan out the scenes that are going to be included in the novel, rather than just winging it and going with the flow.

Winging it and Going with the Flow (not that kind of flow)
Basically the opposite to the one above. No plan. No outline. No will for the characters. Just going with the flow and letting the characters go where the characters want to go. If Sally wants to shoot Bill with a gun three weeks after marriage, then Sally can shoot Bill with a gun three weeks after marriage. Mind you, Bill isn’t too happy about this turn of events, but the writer will not intervene because they choose to give the characters free will.


A combination of the Outline Happy, and the Winging It. Does this really need an explanation? Oh, alright. Basically you write a glorified summary of what is going to happen and then you kind of put it in a box and don’t look at it again until later. You might also make character profiles, which I found can actually help when trying to remember how you wanted your characters to be and act.


This method I find to be great for starting stories, not so much for finishing them. Essentially, you get an idea, and you run with it. You move those fingers and you write those words, because the muses are speaking to you and filling you with wonderful word heaven. And then you stop because you are no longer inspired and have completed the vision. Then you wait until you are inspired to write again. Which could take a long time. Which is why this method is great for starting, when you get that first spark of an idea, but not so much for actually finishing the novel, unless you’re totally okay with it taking a really long time. Which if you are, cool for you.

Regardless of which method you choose (and you can choose more than one, mind you), do what is right for you. Experiment with all of them. Or stick to one if you really like it. Or merge them together. There is no right or wrong way to write a novel, as long as you are actually writing the novel. Mind you, that doesn’t mean that every method will work for you, it just means that there is no one right way to do it.

Which methods of writing have you tried, and which is your favourite?