Anyone who has written any length of time will tell you it has a rhyme and rhythm all its own. It develops over time. The longer time one writes the more familiar the rhythm and rhyme of it becomes until one can make it happen as chosen. Some writers have a routine with a scheduled time that plugs into their inner writer which creates the comforting synchronization of thoughts, text, and typing. Others it begins as a feeling it is time. Some of us odd ducks such as I do both.

My Flows

Courtesy of by M22RDY


Certain types of writing such as SEO and Internet articles I type a number of articles a week. My novel is more ethereal. The characters and events tell me when it is time. I work on it every week but it may be a character sketch, an outline, research on an aspect I wish to incorporate. Rewriting is a huge part of developing as a writer. Often I am viewing sections and dealing with mechanics or rephrasing words. Since my novel rhythm kicks in full swing it comes out as a flood. I often skip words or do not fully explain things. The characters and events swirl so rapidly in my mind my hands cannot type it fast enough. I tried using voice recognition software but having a conversation with the computer while listening to my characters and narrator’s conversation of my novel is just like real life trying to work while all your children are pulling at you at once. My children’s stories mull around in my head and just pop out whole and complete. It starts with a reminiscing or a conversation with my boys that reminds me of my young mothering days. My poetry comes and goes but it is like the children’s books. It pops out and flows. It tends to feel erotic even though the topic may not be. Some days are for journaling. I scribble thoughts on paper of intense emotion that need spilling out. Talking about my issues does me no good. It upsets me and it makes it worse. Writing about it, singing about it, or drawing about it does help. It takes the negatives in my life and makes them into something beautiful. All my work is personal in some way.

Developing New Flows

Courtesy of by dancognomad3

When I learn a new way to write or intensely develop a type of writing I find my inner writer project manager kindly decreases the rest while I meander among my neurons grasping methods, phrasing, and technique to create that which my inner writer demands or my editor.  I have an inner teacher as well who grasps pieces of my other writing and says could this be used or can you modify this. She is quite helpful and knows just the right moment to intercede. I call her Sophia who is the feminine form of God or better known as Wisdom.  Some people put rooms of a house in their head to sort. For whatever reason I put people who I have different types of relationships with. The last couple of weeks I have been developing intensely several kinds of writing which I will talk about later. Thrilling but exhausting and makes me oh so obsessive compulsive at times. I wrote a poem about Sophia and put in “The Endless Forest”, an Internet Game created by digital artists Michael Samyn and Auriea Harvey .Come join. It is free and you are a fawn roaming in the most beautiful peaceful forest ever.  It helps my artist mind to create flow.



Sophia’s Breath

Upon the winds of Time

An old familiar song

She whispers many rhymes

And nature chimes along

Hidden by the Fathers

Protected from Chaos

She soothes that which bothers

And heals one from the loss

She speaks words of Wisdom

A sword of truth is she

She guides one to become

What one is meant to be

Pain matters not to her

Only the end result

Emotions are astir

So begins the tumult

As the life unravels

She sets a brand new course

With her mighty gavel

She is the driving force

From Her breath life abounds

Sophia points the path

Her child’s new earth playground

Subsides the dark wrath

Rising from the wreckage

Is a beautiful mess

Knitted by Love’s courage

Freed from shackled duress

Listen to Her wind blow

Stand in her loving breath

Sophia forms the flow

And there is no more Death

by Mary Page one dark lonely day and Sophia came and a writer was born


Until next time have many grand escapades where ever you are and what ever way you wish