I know. It’s been a very long time since I wrote a blog. To be honest blogging is not my thing. It’s more my wife’s thing. I’m more comfortable weaving my emotions into a piece of fiction. Look, maybe that seems a bit harder than just getting it out there but for me it feels safer. God knows feeling safer isn’t something we’re use to during this global pandemic.
Category: • Wood Dickinson Sites
Where Things Are
I want to update everyone on where I am with my novel Legends of the End. The book is finished and now I’m doing my edit. The novel is written in two parts so I’m almost at the end of part one. Part one is much longer than part two. The end of part one is complicated because there are so many issues coming to a head all at once. I took a few weeks off to help my wife in her recovery from a knee replacement. That took my full attention. She is doing very well and my focus is swinging back to this book. I do have an editor waiting for this manuscript. Richard Thomas has agreed to work with me. He edited my first novel and the fact he is excited to work together again is a great encouragement.
I don’t write much about why I take the photographs I do or really anything on how I get to the finished image I display. I guess I believe a picture is worth a thousand words. I have said in the past that it is the job of the artist to remove the filters we use to see the world and attempt to show a bit of the reality that lies beneath but there really is a lot more to it than that.
I want to let everyone know where I am with the second Robin Randle story. I struggled to get to the finish-line on this novel. Lots of reasons. I knew what had to happen in the end but I didn’t understand the how of how things got there. It took me awhile to sort that […]
The Birth of Robin Randle
If I’m bringing you along for the ride then I should at least start at the birth of the Robin Randle Stories. At the time I was struggling, to put it lightly, with delayed onset Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. The personal particulars aren’t important but what is important is the fact that PTSD is an indescribable thing. I can’t come up with the words that would impart to you the full scope of what it is like to be trapped inside yourself not knowing who the hell you are anymore. At the time I was working on a project I call Mercy Lake. I still want to develop that story but what happened was Robin Randle. She was supposed to be a waitress at a diner in the town of Mercy Lake. I didn’t feel she was going to become a major character in the story but I was having a hell of a time defining who she was at all.
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