Auteur : Marie Alice

Dear fellow writers, warm greetings!

It’s summer on this side of the screen. While people are out there celebrating Canada’s day, let’s start a new writing project.

Yé! Confettis-the easy to clean up ones – and ice tea cheers!

This new writing project is for kids. You know, the less than 12-year-old ones.
It’s gonna be a series of three books, each book being a full story, head to toe.
And I’m absolutely THRILLED about it !!!

In book one, Main Character realizes that summer vacations won’t go as she planned and decided to get even with her big cousin, who thinks she’s in charge just because MC’s parents are out working-working-working. And getting in big trouble once won’t stop MC one bit…

Of course, the sparkles of a new writing project are shining bright, almost blinding the been-there, done-that experience I’ve gathered over the years.

Therefore, I’m giving myself a good old year to write those four books, each being less than 2k words.

Yep, going on the slow lane here.

But going all the same!

I’ll keep you posted. Thanks again for following my writing adventures.

Hope you’re all well, dear fellow writers and poets. May the good words breezily flutter your way!

The book rested on the nightstand for a while, a homemade bookmark lost somewhere between the very first pages.

For no particular reason, I got up while writing this blog post to go get it.

It’s a fantasy book. One I’ve been meaning to read for ages and only thought of buying a few months back.

It has nothing, nothing to do with the plan topic of this post.

Continuer la lecture de « With a Book and Kid on a Little Blue Couch »

Once upon not such a long time ago, we sat down to write.

Many of us opened a laptop, many others the screen of a fixed computer, and a few grab there a good old fashion pen and notebook.

We wrote stories. A myriad of them. In a myriad of genres.

The world around us somehow faded into our own imagination, into our own words.

In that short period of time, we felt something. Something like a sense of belonging. Of kinship.

With the words.
With all the writers being, the writers of the past, the writers waiting to take our seat in front of the screen, the paper.

We felt we were at the right place, doing precisely what we were meant to be doing.

Write stories in the hope to share them with readers – as many as possible too.

Since the sky is the limit, that’s what we used to reach for.

The writers that we used to be sat down countless times to write.

Until, one day, one of us stopped in the middle of a paragraph.

All of a sudden, the words cease to make sense. The story went pointless. The third draft was now one too many.

One of us closed the laptop and put away the pen and notebook. One of us set aside the pile of books to be read.

Days, weeks. All went by.

Happy days, difficult weeks, some long nights filled with tremendous anxiety.

Today, birds woke me up before the sun had time to rise.

It rained during the night. Clouds are still heavy, ready to cheer the spring – flowers everywhere, camaïeu of greens. Beautiful.

A little something tinkled inside. I got up, took the laptop.

Like writers do so often, I sat down to write.

This time, the words tagged along.

Have you ever felt like you wonder why you stopped doing something that brings so much joy and enchantment, fellow writers?

That’s how writing this blog post makes me feel.

Curious to see how I will react when I face those unfinished writing projects…

Dear fellow writers, may all the good words flow your way!