Halfway in between

Today's view of Peace Round the World. More about that soon!

Writing not as a career but not keeping novels in a drawer either.... Maybe another twenty years of writing post. Oh and an update on chickens, Owl in particular, the poor scraggly hen.

Let's begin with Owl Chicken; she looks, um, sad. Terrible actually, even in this chickie-mama's opinion, lol. None of the hens who have molted have lost as many feathers as Owl and I wonder if when Camilla molts, will she somehow try to appear even less appealing, in her I'm the Alpha Hen even in the worst circumstances sort of way.

Pullet-sized Owl a few hours ago, bless her!

I have no idea as Camilla is keeping a tight lid on her molting timeline. Regardless, Owl is getting the bulk of it done before weather gets chilly. Good on ya Owl Chicken!

As for the writing, or rather revisions.... I'm nearly a third of the way through a read-aloud with The Deadfern Miracles. It's always revelatory when reading one's story out loud; not only do certain changes occur that otherwise wouldn't, there's a manner of embracing these characters even more deeply, not that I'm affecting distinct voices for them other than what I've written. It goes further than that, hearing audibly their inward thoughts and outward dialogue and all which strings those sentences together in a pretty cohesive way whether I query this book or not. Querying is kinda beside the point even at this coming to the endgame stage, not that I'm that uncertain or flippant, merely waiting for the Spirit to move me forward. As I wait, I read aloud three chapters each morning, appreciating my craft and the gift behind it more than ever.

More than ever; that nearly sounds like a title for an upcoming installment of The Hawk, hah! Not to bemoan that series, merely that I'm not a Professional Author (ahem) in how professional writers are presumed to behave or approach this previously gate-kept career. Before indie (self) publishing truly exploded upwards of fifteen years ago (like when I got on board), before anyone could EASILY release their own stories to online retailers; before all that if you wrote a novel and no agents wanted to represent you, those manuscripts, many of which probably existed in hard copies, were stuffed in drawers, cedar chests, totes, etc. because no one else wanted them and back then self-publishing was an expensive, laborious endeavor. Now publishing books can be as simple as getting AI to do the heavy lifting, if one so wishes, which is a sad state of affairs, but a lot about this world is meh, like poor Owl Chicken.

Ruthie to Owl's left, Nature Girl aka Icey on the right.

Moving past the unpleasantness, there's the utter joy of creativity and being able to share it! Such a thrill to write a novel, working it to its best shiny state, then sharing it with the world. Twenty years ago, or maybe eighteen and a half, after I had a slight grip on what writing had done to my life, of course I wanted to make it a career. Instead I breathed deeply, kept writing, and allowed other things their due. I don't regret that decision and equally I continue spinning yarns in my own quiet way. Because I can is one reason, because this was how my authorial journey was meant to be is the main push behind how I do things. As Owl is halfway in between her previous self and what comes next, I too keep at this writing gig, happily and not as quickly as before getting novels from my hard drive to various online outlets, sweet!

The upshot? Keep your head aligned to your heart. Wait out the molting season however it figures into your dream. We all lose feathers, then those feathers grow back, and we're set for another push toward the goal, whatever it might be. Mine is to get Deadfern into its happy place, then settle in with The Hawk Book Six. And maybe by then Owl will be strutting with fancy finery, perhaps a tail even. Stay tuned to see how she fills out, hehehe.