A Thorny Proposition - IWSG June 2026

 

Welcome to IWSG Day. The goal of this blog hop is to share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a haven for insecure writers of all kinds. IWSG is the brainchild of our ninja leader Alex Cavanaugh. Thank you to this month’s co-hosts, Victoria Marie Lees, Sarah Foster, Natalie Aguirre, and C. Lee McKenzie. For links to all contributors, click here.

May was busy. The month was full of weeding, mulching, seeding, and transplanting. Every time I went outside I saw something else that needed to be done. The operative word in that last sentence is “saw” because aside from the gardening, I had two cataract surgeries. Apparently, I’m on the young side, but they can come earlier for severely nearsighted people like me. When you’ve been wearing coke-bottle glasses since childhood and wake up one morning post-surgery, and can see a hummingbird zipping outside the window with your naked eye, it’s life-changing.

The yardwork and surgeries provided an excuse for writing-avoidance. After completing a class on creating a saleable submission package for my latest book in April, I sent out two more queries and received two more quick rejections. Enough! I don’t want to waste this book, so long story short, it’s out being edited (again) which put me in waiting mode, which is to say, I took a break from writing.

I know. I should have distracted myself with another project, but my motivation to start anything new has been on such a prolonged break, I’d begun to suspect it had walked off the job. Spring gardening, plus pre and post-op appointments, kept me too busy to think about that.

Amost.

This leads me to this month’s question. Do most of my story ideas come from one place (the news, dreams, etc.) or do they hit from all over the place?

The only consistency related to my story inspiration is that for a long time, I’ve had nothing but empty head space when I ponder writing a new one—that is, until one day recently. I was weeding under a holly tree, which requires yanking up “volunteers” while avoiding thorny leaves that clutter the ground in the spring. Often I listen to audio books during such tedious jobs, but on this day, my headphone batteries had died. I’d challenged myself to clear a certain section though, so hoed away in silence. Two hours in, temps had peaked at an unseasonable ninety-plus. The weeds were stubborn and sweat trickled down my face.  I’d reached a point where I was whisper-cursing at holly thorns poking through my gloves.

And, that my friends, is when a story idea struck.

Really? Now?

In truth, I wiped my forehead and sat back on my heels, pretty darn tickled. The thought that arrived had nothing to do with the task at hand, but afterwards, the weeding felt easier somehow.

Since then, I’ve thought about that under-the-holly-tree revelation a lot. I’ve even done a bit of research trying to decide if there is enough there to flesh out a story. I’m not sure, but that’s okay.

The whole business gave me a measure of relief. It’s a new month. My eyes working and there’s hope that once I choose to listen, my writing voice will come in clearly, too.

Where do you find your inspiration?

Harvesting Inspiration - IWSG May 2026

 

Welcome to IWSG Day. The goal of this blog hop is to share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a haven for insecure writers of all kinds. IWSG is the brainchild of our ninja leader Alex Cavanaugh. Thank you to this month’s co-hosts, Jenni Enzor, Jemima Pett, Jamie of Uniquely Maladjusted but Fun, and Kim Lajevardi. For links to all contributors, click here.

Optional May question: What was the most inspiring feedback you received from readers, including agents, editors, and beta readers?

While not necessarily feedback, a writer, author, teacher I know once offered this inspirational phrase: “Thinking is writing too.”

These days, I can’t muster up the energy to work on a new novel, but that doesn’t mean words and images don’t continue to spin their little kaleidoscopes inside my brain. It comforts me to acknowledge them, knowing they’ll be there if I decide to call on them some day.  

It’s still cold here. An east wind off the ocean delivers a damp chill, but even so, free-form forsythias wave their yellow arms, and “PJM” rhododendrons bloom fuchsia.  Still bundled in my winter jacket, this morning I walked the sidewalks in our downtown under a bower of Bradford pear blossoms. I looked up through them, unable to tell where the flowers ended and the white sky began. That picture resides in my brain now, ready in case it’s called to the page.

Crossing the street, I strolled through the town common. Beyond me, out for his own walk, a man wearing shorts above two prosthetic legs zigzagged the path. I caught myself wondering what had happened to him. Had he been in the military? Was he in a car accident?  What kind of courage had it taken for him to get to a point where he could jaunt across the common on this damp spring day? I’ve stored those thoughts for future retrieval.

Our county Sherriff's office brings in a shredding truck for a few hours once a year. After my walk, I sorted through old papers to dispose of and found insurance documents from when our house was robbed over twenty years ago. At the time (and still now), the only things I owned of marginal value had been handed down, or marked a significant occasion, and those were the things the perpetrator went for. Entering via an unlocked back door, they helped themselves to a ring that had been my great aunt’s and then my mother’s, who handed it down to me when I was sixteen. A necklace my husband gave me for our first Christmas together disappeared. They took our daughter’s gold christening bracelet, earrings my husband gifted me on our fifth wedding anniversary, and another pair he gave me years later for reasons I won’t go into here, but which made me treasure them. The lost items scored higher for sentimental value than anything else, and that meant while they were theoretically replaceable, they could never be replaced. To add proverbial acid to the wound, the thief stole a digital camera, filled with pictures I hadn’t downloaded or printed. Of course, we were grateful no one was home when it happened. No one was hurt. The lost items were just things. For a long time afterwards though, I felt vulnerable and violated. The intruders had taken pieces of my history. It felt like they'd taken part of my heart.

So, what has all this got to do with today’s question? Inspiration can be found anywhere. On my way back to my car after dumping a cardboard box of papers into the shredding bin, long forgotten anger and frustration stemming from that robbery percolated inside me. It took a few minutes sitting in my warm car to realize I could restore a feeling of control by harvesting those old emotions to use the next time a story pops up.

Where do you get your inspiration?

Tuned IN II. IWSG April 2026

 

Welcome to IWSG Day. The goal of this blog hop is to share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a haven for insecure writers of all kinds. IWSG is the brainchild of our ninja leader Alex Cavanaugh. Thank you to this month’s co-hosts, Melissa Maygrove, Cathrina Constantine, Kate Larkinsdale, and Rebecca Douglass. For links to all contributors, click here.

Optional April question: If you have a playlist (or could put one together) that either gets you in the groove to write or fits with one of your books, what is it? What type of music or what songs?

I’m not in the habit of playing music when writing, but once, ages ago, when my subject matter had Irish connections, I turned to a Celtic playlist while drafting. Inspired by the result. I wrote a Middle Passages post about that magical experience here.  Other than adding a few commas, I’m not sure I could write it better today.

That said (or read), after that expressive time, I went back to writing in silence. For me, concentration requires quiet, but as I discovered recently, apparently silence during cooking isn’t as important. I had some interior house painting done a few months back. At the end of the day, one of the painters mentioned my voice.

Huh?

It turns out the painters, father and son, perform in a band and had been listening to me singing away in the kitchen while they worked in the living room. I wasn’t aware I’d opened my mouth. I guess that goes to show that while I prefer to write in quiet, music is a part of me.

Anyway, back to today’s topic. Intrigued by that post I wrote so many years ago, and in the spirit of IWSG participation, I turned on some tunes while drafting what you’re reading right now. You never know. Maybe I’d grasp a shadow of that long ago Celtic muse. Instead, the first song blasted me back to a party in a linoleum-floored college dorm room where a group of us belted out the chorus. Back to the present. This time I was aware and it was probably good there was no one in my house,  because I employed my high school chorus instructor’s lessons to sing from my diaphragm. That is to say, loudly.

So much for writing.

Next thing I knew, I’d spent long minutes replaying the details of that particular college evening [insert youthful drama here], thinking how back then, every joy lit our insides like skyrockets, every hurt plunged us into arctic oceans. We had yet to experience the depth of the ways in which life would have its way with us. I wanted to reach back to that naïve girl singing her heart out, and say, “You think today is a big deal? Brace yourself, honey. You ain’t seen nothin’ yet!”

Let’s just say the music-generated nostalgia didn’t help me get this blog post written.

Or did it?

What kind of music do you listen to when you write? What songs catapult you back to the past?

Climbing Out - IWSG March 2026

 

Welcome to IWSG Day. The goal of this blog hop is to share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a haven for insecure writers of all kinds. IWSG is the brainchild of our ninja leader Alex Cavanaugh.

I’m writing this post mid-February and pre-posting as I won’t be available closer to the March IWSG deadline. With no monthly question to answer, I’m going rogue. That said, as always, thank you to this month’s co-hosts and to Alex. To read March posts from other IWSG contributors, click here.  

I’ve just completed a class called; You’ve Written a Book—Now What? It covered one line pitches, queries, publishing perspectives and marketing plans.

Some history. I started querying my last novel late last summer and after quick rejections, stopped to ponder what to do to improve my chances. When the opportunity to take the course came up, it seemed like a smart way to force myself forward. The class met on Saturdays, with a homework assignment in between, and after our second class, the task was to write (or in my case, re-write) our queries.

The following Monday morning I sat down to work on the main paragraph of the query, something like 200 words. I had plans for three hours later and usually put an alarm on my phone as a reminder, but since there was plenty of time, I didn’t bother.

Oops! I had to bolt out of my chair to make it to my destination in time, arriving there sans wallet and phone. I’d looked forward to the activity, but once there couldn’t focus. Half of my brain sat back in front of my laptop, tweaking word-by-word. Then, once I arrived home again, I discovered I’d been so distracted I’d left a folder of information behind.

Really?

It was a query letter--theoretically, not “fun” writing at all. But it reminded me that any writing has always brought joy, even in my vintage HR days when I’d get lost creating a training document or a relocation piece, only to look up and realize I’d almost missed a staff meeting. As far back as Miss Markey's sixth grade creative writing class when I wrote five extra pages for an assignment just because I was having fun.

The following day I drove twenty minutes to retrieve the folder I’d left behind, thinking that while I love when writing swallows down a deep hole, sometimes climbing out can be a challenge.

Tell me about a time that you got lost in your writing.

Building the Supports - IWSG February 2026

 

Welcome to IWSG Day. The goal of this blog hop is to share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a haven for insecure writers of all kinds. IWSG is the brainchild of our ninja leader Alex Cavanaugh. Thank you to co-hosts for the February posting of the IWSG are J Lenni Dorner, Victoria Marie Lees, and Sandra Cox! For links to all contributors, click here.

Optional February question - Many writers have written about the experience of rereading their work years later. Have you reread any of your early works? What was that experience like for you?

My favorite part of re-reading old pieces is recognizing the improvement in my writing. I’d only written non-fiction and poetry when I attempted my first piece of fiction. A blogger I followed offered a contest in which she provided the first and last sentence of a short story. Contestants had to fill in the middle with a specific maximum word count. I gave it a go and ended up astonished. Who knew I could write a story? Of course I didn’t win. There were all sorts of structure problems. But who cares? It started something. Another blog offered daily writing prompts and I used them to challenge myself. Eventually, a few more contests brought a mention or two, enough to keep me going. A scene storming exercise led to my first novel attempt, a bomb, but ten years later I got back to it. Now it’s a fully realized manuscript.

The gist is, a lot of my early work is emphatically cringeworthy, but so what? Writing is like everything else. The longer we practice the better we get. Those early words are the pilings beneath the pier. They support what’s built on top of it.

How do you feel about your early writing?

It's a Hard Wall - IWSG January 2026

 

Welcome to IWSG Day. The goal of this blog hop is to share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a haven for insecure writers of all kinds. IWSG is the brainchild of our ninja leader Alex Cavanaugh. Thank you to co-hosts for this month: Shannon Lawrence, Olga Godim, Jean Davis, and Jacqui Murray! For links to all contributors, click here.

Confession. While I’m good at putting appointment reminders in my phone, I rely on the email prompt administrators typically send out a week before our monthly IWSG posting date. This morning I walked three miles, ate breakfast and started reading the news before realizing today is the first Wednesday of the month. I checked my email and found the reminder that arrived yesterday afternoon. Oops. So what you are getting here is a totally off-the-cuff post, published prior to noon, instead of my typical 6:00 am.

This month’s optional IWSG question: Is there anything in your writing plans for 2026 that you are going to do that you couldn't get done in 2025?

As it happens, I’ve known for two months about a class focused on creating novel submission packages. It’s going to be offered once in 2026, for five weeks during January and February and the deadline was December 31. To bring you up to date, I started querying my novel last summer, got my first round of rejections and decided to rewrite my query. I got no further than that.

The objective me thought this might be a good time to take the class.

But the subjective me (read that as, the chicken **** me) kept finding excuses not to act. It’s by Zoom and I hate online classes. There will be a follow-up class offered in March and I’m going to be away. Money isn’t really an issue, but I wondered if it was a good time to spend it right after the holidays.  

But here’s my real reason for delaying.

I’m scared. Taking it will mean I’d have to follow through and I’m afraid to find out my query stinks, or worse, that my book, the fourth one I’ve written, stinks more. Yes, I’ve had readers and editors, but still, I suffer from a mega case of imposter syndrome, posting like a writer here on IWSG for so many years. The truth is, I’m terrible at marketing myself, great at giving up, and suspect I may be a half-good writer who’ll never publish a novel. Chances are this fourth novel is my last.

Say that ten times fast. Chances are this fourth novel is my last.

Thankfully, that particular phrase circled in my brain as I sat down at my laptop on New Year’s Eve and remembered the deadline for signing up for the course.  

Nothing like backing up against a proverbial wall. 

I made it with a few hours to spare. 

Class starts Saturday.

Wishing you all a happy and successful 2026.

The Gift that Keeps Giving - IWSG December 2025

 

Welcome to IWSG Day. The goal of this blog hop is to share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a haven for insecure writers of all kinds. IWSG is the brainchild of our ninja leader Alex Cavanaugh. 

I am delighted to co-host IWSG this month with Ronel Janse van Vuuren, Pat Garcia, Tara Tyler, and Natalie Aguirre! For links to all contributors, click here.

December’s optional question - As a writer, what was one of the coolest/best gifts you ever received?

Not all gifts are material, and the one for which I feel most grateful is the gift of awareness.

It began when I started this blog and challenged myself to write a post five days a week. That could have become boring, or at the very least a struggle, so in trying to furnish myself with subject matter I spent a lot of time walking with a camera, noticing things I’d never had time to appreciate before. Pretty soon I had images—storm clouds reflecting off a still harbor, herons and egrets stick-walking through the marsh grass, lobster boats laboring in with their catch. After a while, it didn't matter if I took a photo. I learned that winter sunsets are stunning, but it's the subtle color that displays in the east just as the sun goes down that touches the soul. I drank in views of the city across the bay from a park I’d never walked before, visited secret gardens and strolled a World War II munitions depot the state turned into walking paths. I discovered a lighthouse on a spit of land where, if timed right, it's possible to watch the sunrise and turn around and to watch the moon set in the same minute. My walks took me through museums, graveyards, antique stores and old homesteads. Each of these things delivered a sense of uniqueness and wonder as well as a profound feeling of good fortune for the beauty and history that surrounds me.

The habit of noticing stays strong in me. Even now as I walk the same route most mornings, things are  different than the day before. Beauty is ever changing, ever evolving. How lucky am I that awareness arrived with a two-for-one bonus gift of ongoing appreciation.

As a writer, what has been your favorite gift?