I just blogged three metaphors to describe the lake I live on. But I liked them, so I cut and copied them to my writing file. I want to save them for my next middle grade novel.
Did I say “next novel”?
In the midst of writing Silent Glades I was like a woman in labor. The waiting, work and pain was so tremendous that I said; No, I screamed, “I will never do this again!” But once it was finished, like a young mother holding her new baby, I started thinking about how much she’d like a little sister.