The Trendsetter

I knew I wanted to write and get published when I first got my grubby paws on the romance novel – you know, the ones with gorgeous river pilot on the cover: tall, dark, muscular and handsome hero with beautiful heroine – when I was 16 years old.

I said to one of my best friends, Sylvia, “I’d love to write my own novel one of these days.”

She looked at me. “Like this one? No. You can’t be serious.”

I tried to hide my mischievous smile.

“I don’t believe you,” she said with bulging eyes.

“Watch me,” I said.

She laughed. “All right. The glint in your eyes convinces me you’re up to something.”

Someone clears his throat. “You two, did you finished your work?”

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After completing my short story a couple of months ago, I managed to write another short fictional piece (750 words) and a short memoir (1,500 words). Between editing my manuscripts, I became overwhelmed with ideas coming down like rain. I felt practically pelted - so to speak.

So, amid rewriting I’ve stopped, grabbed my note pad and started to jot them down furiously. Now I have a couple of dozen ideas ready to be turned into fiction - or do I? Well, it happens that these ideas are, you know, just ideas – I couldn’t turn them into fiction.

I wondered why that is? After analyzing the situation for a while I think I knew the reasons. Here they are:

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Do you know that a window is associated with a writer - especially a large window? Well, every time a writer goes to task – writing that is – they will look outside through the window when they get stuck… looking out at the snow falling down and marveling at the beauty of the winter season (right now since winter is still here).

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