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Under the Moth Moon
A Moth Moon T-shirt, an approaching retirement, and Halloween's thinning veil inspire a poem about transformation, memory, and the courage to begin again.
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Post #10: When the Subplot Tries to Eat the Plot
A subplot was supposed to add a little depth. Instead, it developed emotional teeth and tried to take over the manuscript. Here’s what I learned about knowing when to prune a story thread—and when to listen to it.
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Post #9: My Villain Has a Backstory I Just Don’t Know What It Is
My villain was supposed to be simple: ancient, intimidating and safely mysterious. Then he started asking questions. Somewhere along the way, my evil force developed grief, a philosophy and a backstory he apparently has no intention of telling me yet.
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What the Roots Knew: A Poem on Turning 60 & New Beginnings
I’ve always loved autumn—perhaps because it reminds us that letting go and beginning again can happen at the same time. On my 60th birthday, I imagined my eighty-year-old self looking back across twenty Septembers. What the Roots Knew grew from that thought.
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Post #8: Finding My Voice (Again)
Sometimes a writer’s voice doesn’t disappear, it simply goes quiet. After time away from the page, I’m discovering that finding my voice again isn’t about returning to who I was, but listening to who I’ve become.
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Post #7: When My Characters Ignore Me
There’s a moment in writing when a character stops following the shape you’ve planned. Not dramatically, but quietly through hesitation, resistance, or a line that doesn’t quite land. This entry reflects on how a single scene shifted when something underneath it refused to settle.
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Post #6: My Muse Is a Liar and Other Comforting Truths
I met my muse in a bookstore. She drinks tea, questions everything, and has a habit of pointing out exactly what I’m avoiding. She tells the truth—just not always at the right time.
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Post #5: The Story Had Other Plans
What began as a tidy fantasy with obedient plot points quickly unraveled. Characters rebelled, villains became philosophical, and the story wandered far beyond my outline. Somewhere in that chaos, I realized the uncomfortable truth: sometimes the story knows more than the writer.
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Interlude IV – The Thinning
The ring surrendered entirely. Fragments hovered like shattered moons around a blazing heart. What once sealed the worlds apart now revealed the truth: the barrier had only ever been waiting to break.
