I’ve been so swamped that I have not kept up with my blog–clearly this is an understatement–but today is the day because I am languishing in rainy, windy Quebec with time on my hands wondering what kind of writer I actually am. I wonder if there is anyone out there who has actually become famous (in a good way) with their first draft, or say less than 10 revisions–I’m just saying. And I’m asking because the process fascinates me. DANCING ON BROKEN GLASS  started out as a question: how strong does love need to be to survive mental illness, pregnancy and cancer, and how would that look on paper? Of course it depends on the players, right? And perhaps an author who knew what she was doing with the story? I didn’t at first, so naturally I made some pretty hairy mistakes. I’ll go into the gory details later when we’re better friends. For now I guess I’ll just say that writing DANCING took me a couple of years which was a blast because I love the unpoliced abandon of creating a story from air and ideas. I love it when those ideas take on a life of their own. That’s why I write. I love playing Mastress of the Universe.  But that takes some discipline, and I realize now, that I’m more like a mom with big plans for a closet full of unruly children, and once I open the door and they all scramble out, I’m shocked when they insist on doing things their way. It probably all sounds a bit skitzy, but if you write, you know what I’m saying.

Tune in next time when I’ll tell you that DANCING started out as a story about 2 sisters and ended up, let’s just say, way different.  Ooops, looks like I told you. Oh well, tune in anyway–gotta run, a thin beam of sunlight has made it through the Canadian cloud cover and I need to go eavesdrop on the French speaking natives. (I’m dying to say oui and merci beaucoup)