Once upon a time I was sitting in a class at school, I think it was in sixth or seventh grade but it might have been a little later on. A guy, and I don’t remember who, came up to me and asked if I’d ever participated in NaNoWriMo.
“What???” I think was my response.
You know what’s hard about writing in the morning before work? Every second I sit here unable to type because I can’t think of what to say feels like a second wasted because I don’t have time for this!
It’s Saturday!
My body has been rebelling against the 6:00 wake-up time to the point that I have yet to set an alarm for 6:00 and have continued to rise at 6:30. Today was no different.
Writers are people with stories inside that are doing their best to make the story come to life. The story is their baby, and they love that baby with all their hearts.
But what happens if they can’t make the story work, no matter what they do?
I met Mourning Gloria in its infancy, when Katie sent it to me in an email. The first few drafts were very different to this work sitting next to me on the table, completed and bound with a beautiful cover. This baby’s not a baby anymore.
ASHTON WIDDISON 