Meet Roany's Red Doc... Doc for short

This isn't for sure his register name but Doc is his calling name.
Remember that I told y'all that he was a chestnut with a star ... well.... he's not. He has started shedding his baby colt and he is nearly white under it. He is going to be a red roam. That is his mother behind him but she is going to be leaving next week. Poor Doc, but he gets Pride.. the old man ... to be his buddy.

Do we really know how to write what we don't know

Think about it... if you've never driven down a dirt road with all the car windows down, how can you really write the smell, the sight, the feel, what you hear, how does the dust taste and if it's a paved road how does the breeze whipping your hair feel, smell, taste
I think you get my point. Everything is fiction unless you've experienced events that take place in your manuscript.

A Picture is worth more than words

This picture is some of the horses at the barn and the girl is my granddaughter Lakelynn age 12... have you ever tried to show the word faith or trust??
Look at the picture, see how relax Lake is and there are more horses close but not in the picture. More important, look at the horses. they are relax. Now let me explain a character trait of horses, they are flight animals because there are predators in the wild that eat them. They are excepting this person as one of the herd. It looks easy but it's very hard to get that many animals to trust you.

How your character looks

How do you get your character's hair color, eye color, how they dress, are they small for their age or large blended into the story... help. I realized I know how my character looks but I don't think the reader does.

This is my character but the manuscript is historical fiction... her hair is red and her eyes are green. Look at how beautiful her eyes are and those full lips but also look at that determination written in the set of her head, lips and eyes.

Have you sent in your Census??

I'm one of those people that knock on doors of people that don't send back their Census.

Everyone has been very nice and helpful in finding addresses.

Could there be a romance story in a Census worker and tardy respondent?? It could happen. Not to me because I live with the love of my life but I did get asked out on a date.

My garden is coming up

All is right with the world. My tomatoes and peppers are growing and the other vegetables are coming up. They are pushing their little green heads toward the sunshine so I can reap their bounty in about six to eight weeks. YUM!

To be a good writer

You have to read. I know, it's hard to read when your story is swirling in your brain but if you don't study your craft the odds are you'll not get published.

The picture is not my bookshelf... no mine is not that neat.

I rode through the desert on a horse with no name...

A question for seventy babies... who wrote the song and what group sang the song??

I've always loved this song because it's a story of a person just trying to get by, how lonely you can get in a crowd and how things change.

Here's the lyrics I copied and pasted so the words are all small letters

on the first part of the journey
i was looking at all the life
there were plants and birds and rocks and things
there was sand and hills and rings
the first thing i met was a fly with a buzz
and a sky with no clouds
the heat was hot and the ground was dry
but the air was full of sound

(chorus)
i've been through the desert on a horse with no name
it felt good to be out of the rain
in the desert you can remember your name
'cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain
la la ....

after two days in the desert sun
my skin began to turn red
after three days in the desert fun
i was looking at a river bed
and the story it told of a river that flowed
made me sad to think it was dead
(chorus)

after nine days i let the horse run free
'cause the desert had turned to sea
there were plants and birds and rocks and things
there was sand and hills and rings
the ocean is a desert with its life underground
and a perfect disguise above
under the cities lies a heart made of ground
but the humans will give no love
(chorus)

answer to question

The group America was formed in England by sons of US servicemen who were stationed there. Lead singer Dewey Bunnell wrote this when he was 19.

I feel for the wild life...

The poor birds and other wildlife that get caught in that oil.

If I don’t post this week don’t worry…I’m going to school to be a census taker. They pay you to go to school. I’m working all day and then I’m going to school at night for 4 hours. Might not even get a chance to read other post. I’ll be back on Friday.

What do you see?

I get ideas from everything. I go to old book stores and look at the nonfiction section for photography books. Look at the picture, does it trigger words to describe a serial murder or a haunting.

I see a good scene for "Nightmare on Elm Street"

Digging in the dirt

Okay, I'm off to dig in my garden... I know wet but I have tomato plants that need to go in the ground. I've got a great picture to bring you out of the rainy weekend blues and get you started on a great week. I know that sunshine today was inspiring.

I have heal all advise for anyone bogged down with plot or character development
and I wrote a article about it. I sold it to ICL which pays for writing articles. If you want to know how to submit, email me and I'll send you the information

I'm going to share the beginning with you.


One evening I was in the ICL chat room, when a fellow writer commented that her writing was “a thousand miles from nowhere.” I think all writers have moments that their stories seem to be going nowhere and they are lost in the emotional sea of writers’ block. Her comment triggered a memory of what my mother would tell me when I was discouraged, “When you’re in the pits of nowhere, start walking. You’ll come out somewhere.”

Okay take this advise and start... you will get to the end with each step but if you remain planted and refuse to budge ... that story will flutter and die from neglect.

WRITE WRITE WRITE

Write the first few lines of new story

Use this picture to write a few lines of a new story... here's mine

Inky water tugs on silky strands of sunshine as the icy hand of death rises from the river’s soul to ease her memory of fear, pain, and sorrow. Suckling its bitter nectar like a babe nestled at a mother’s breast; she accepts its reassurance with arms flung wide. What madness would cause this beautiful young maiden to turn from the opportunities the world has to offer and walk into the pits of hell as if it was her only salvation? Didn’t she know the pain her death would cause? Her friends will have to live with their indifference of her private purgatory and guilt that they didn’t help her fight her demons.