Binge Reading and Blog Neglect

Surely one habit of a great writer is writing everyday. Unfortunately that doesn't always include an update to this blog. Sometimes the Internet turns into such a time-suck that I turn on Airport-Mode, head straight to Word, and increase my productivity.

That being said, I have gotten much work accomplished on THE DIZZY SPELL. Yes, that's another updated title, which is not the only change I assure you.

Another writer must-have habit is reading. I've been really binging lately, including some timeless classics like The Fountainhead, The Confederacy of Dunces and The Lord of the Flies. Each author mastered their way of character studies and setting descriptions-- two major novel elements, which are my weaknesses.

Reading back through my manuscript after reading a legend is as disappointing as it is inspiring. So much more revision to be done! Other voices can't be captured, but can set mine free.

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Latest Opening Graphs:

Chapter 1

The big round, triple-decker, dark chocolate cake, smothered with gobs of cherry whip cream frosting, sat high on top of a pedestal plate. The birthday song was sung and the candles were blown out. Then an eager little hand bumped the pedestal and sent the cake flying off the table. The sugary masterpiece soared aimlessly out of reach and headed toward the floor. But nothing splattered. The cake had stopped falling, and froze in mid-air. It magically floated upward, slowly, then rested back on the table. After an awkward silence, one girl cracked up laughing.

Emily Krell beamed with bright hazel eyes, an impish little nose and dimpled cheeks. Her high-pitched giggle bubbled up from her gut. Her fingers fluttered applause, with thumbs pressed together. Her toes remained on the floor while her heels bounced up like springs. That was the first time Emily had seen magic in years, and she couldn’t have been happier. Once she had magic of her very own.

Back then, Emily was 9 and still lived here in Arlington, MA. Her magic arrived in early November, when her dad, Tim, picked her up from school. Tim always looked dead tired from working nights at FedEx. His sweatshirt and jeans were coated with warehouse dust, and his boots dragged like stumps. Emily pranced around weightless in comparison. Her long brown hair swelled with air as she hopped along the sidewalk. Emily moved fast, ditching Tim purpose. She wanted to walk home alone, yet he insisted on joining her. School was only four blocks away.

The sun over Franklin Street shined in streaks between the rectangle stacks of duplexes. Trees sagged with heavy limbs that burst with red and orange. Emily jumped, knocked a maple seed loose, and watched it spin down like a helicopter. She found a sparkly pebble, slipped it in her pocket and continued along. She arrived at her tiny yellow house, which looked a bit out of place, dwarfed and crammed between larger homes. Its two dormer windows were spaced upon the roof like eyes. Green shutters matched the green front door, the green mailbox, and the green tin awning over the stoop. The front yard was barely big enough for a leaf pile, but Emily built one and jumped in by the time Tim got home.

“Emily!” Tim yelled from the curb behind his rusty VW Jetta, “Come here, I have a present for you.”

“Really?“ Emily stood and wiped the dried leaves off her plaid jumper. “What is it?”

Emily knew by her dad’s sneaky smile that he had found something at FedEx. Sometimes he kept lost packages. Nothing valuable, just stuff like candy or flowers. When Tim popped open the trunk that day, he revealed a cardboard box the size of a pizza. Its address label was all ripped up.

“Check it out,” Tim grinned, saying ‘out’ with two syllables.

Emily opened the box and wowed at the most amazing costume accessory she’d ever seen. Wings. Two large black wings, were folded flat against each other, and fit snug inside a cellophane bag. They were feathered like a crow, each quill as big as Emily’s hand, and made of thin cloth, sewn onto a wire frame. The cloth shined like fresh water on an oil spot. The wings looked ominous, except for their shape, the semicircle of a ladybug wing.

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