Sending my Work to a Beta

Image result for person biting their nails

Tomorrow, I’m going to be sending my favorite of the manuscripts I’ve written to my first beta reader. I’ve spent the last few days editing Things I Meant to Tell You (which was originally titled Fantastic Feats of Self-Destruction, but I felt that sounded too awkward and young adult-y) and my mom has been kind enough to pay for the beta reader for me. I’m going to try to save up enough money to pay for another one in the not-too-distant future, so I can get two people’s opinions.

Continue reading “Sending my Work to a Beta”

5 Tips for Finishing Your First Novel

I wrote my first novella when I was about 21 years old. It was 143 pages long, and misanthropic and bleak enough to be concerning to my parents while promising more dark things to come. Looking back, I think there were a lot of things I could have done better, but I’m just glad I did it. Considering my history of procrastination and self-doubt, it never should have happened, but it paved the way for four more manuscripts, one based upon the novella, with a drastic shift in perspective and changes in plot. So, even though I am hardy an expert on anything related to writing (I still have a long way to go to achieve anything even resembling expertise,) I’ve decided to write a short list of ways in which you can push yourself past that hallowed finish line of completing your first book.

Continue reading “5 Tips for Finishing Your First Novel”

My Sister’s Writing


I decided to include a picture of a Fennec fox kit because foxes are Ruby’s favorite kind of animal, I thought she’d approve. 🙂


I had no nightmares, but what’s possibly more disconcerting is I had no dreams at all. I just had a vast blank expanse of memory that was the night. Just an eerie, anxious blankness. I sit up, unsettled, and crawl out of the niche, and stand in the soft sunlight. It all seems off right now. The forest is silent, and although leaves are softly moving, there’s no wind. Even the sunshine doesn’t seem normal- It’s pale and dusty and the sun itself is nowhere to be seen. I wait a few uncomfortable moments, wondering if this is a dream. There’s a mass amount of gut feeling that something’s wrong and I’ve learned to trust that feeling. —a beautifully written excerpt from a story my insanely talented 14-year-old sister Ruby is writing, copied with her permission. At this rate she’ll be a way better writer than I am by the time she’s my age; I’m very proud of her. it seems like my whole family has caught the writing bug at some time or another, and I really hope my sister keeps writing, she’s excellent!