Where, oh where, has the fiction writer gone? On trails, up mountains and through rugged days.
I can’t decide which is worse: getting sick or the winter storm that just hit us.
I’m three chapters into a novel. Each chapter is about 2,200 words, plus or minus. (A little more on the plus side.)
I’m focusing a lot more on narration instead of plot. A book’s narrator is more intimate than a movie or television camera eye.
But it’s these travels and Omar, himself, that soon conjured up a different simile as I turned more pages: This story is like a flower.
I don’t typically write book reviews as I feel that there are others who do it better. But I just finished reading Patrick Rothfuss’ book The Name of the Wind. It’s a good read.