Listening for the Quiet Voice of Creativity

AMID THE WINTER SNOW, an anthology of fantasy romance holiday novellas is now available for pre-order! It releases December 12, 2017 and contains four all-new, meaty novellas in each of our fantasy worlds. Early reviews have called it "gorgeous," which I just love.

As the snows fall and hearths burn, four stories of Midwinter beginnings prove that love can fight its way through the chillest night…

THE DARKEST MIDNIGHT, by Grace Draven
The mark Jahna Ulfrida was born with has made her a target of the cruel and idle all her life. During the long, crowded festivities of Deyalda, there’s nowhere to escape. Until a handsome stranger promises to teach her to save herself…

THE CHOSEN, by Thea Harrison
In her visions, Lily sees two men fighting for her tiny country’s allegiance: the wolf and the tiger, each deadly, each cunning. One will bring Ys chaos and death, one a gentler path—but she’s destined to love whichever she chooses. The midwinter Masque is upon them, and the wolf is at her door…

THE STORM, by Elizabeth Hunter
When her soul mate died in a massacre of the half-angelic Irin people, Renata thought she’d never feel happiness again. She’s retreated to the snowy Dolomites to remember her hurts—until determined, irrepressible Maxim arrives to insist on joy, too. And before she can throw him out, they discover a secret the Irin have to know…

THE SNOWS OF WINDROVEN, by Jeffe Kennedy
As a blizzard threatens their mountain keep, the new Queen Amelia of the Twelve Kingdoms and her unofficial consort Ash face their own storm. Ash knows a scarred, jumpy ex-convict isn’t the companion his queen needs. But when a surprise attack confines them together in their isolated sanctuary, the feast of midwinter might tempt even Ash into childlike hope…

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We've been getting an amazing response, so thanks to everyone who's already pre-ordered!

Our topic this week is writing in a vacuum—which is better for you, writing in a closed space or writing where people can interact with you?

This is a short and easy answer for me, because I'm a vacuum kind of gal. I like total silence and minimal distractions. I keep my desk pretty well cleared off. I have a long and peaceful view down the Galisteo Basin to the mountains. My very favorite is if no one else is in the house.

If I can get a lot of quiet psychic space, that's ideal.

I can write on airplanes, or in Starbucks, if that's the only way I'm going to get the wordcount in, but I'm happiness with utter quiet. I believe that's the best way to let the subconscious speak. Sometimes the voice of creativity whispers. In total silence, I hear it best.

Making Space

Have you ever wanted something badly enough to change your habits to get or achieve it? Did you say to yourself that you needed to make space in your life for the effort required to achieve your goal? Maybe it was making the baseball team and what you needed was to make space for dedicated practice every day. Only that way could you develop the skill needed to make a team.

Have you paid any attention to some of the New Age-y philosophies about 'making room' for something in your life? There's the story about the woman who decided she was ready for a committed relationship, but no prospects appeared. She finally realizes she hasn't made room for a partner. Therefore, she cleans out her closet so half is empty. She clears the second bay of the garage. Presto. Because she'd made physical space, she'd made psychic space, and put herself into the frame of mind to see possibilities she hadn't before. The natural cynic in me nods and says, 'how neat, tidy and accommodating.'

Regardless, both stories point out a single fact: Space is predicated on loss.

If you need space, you have to lose something you currently have or do or are in order to have what you believe you want. In the case of the wannabe baseball player, the loss is after school TV and games with friends. In the case of the relationship, it's the loss of physical space, yes, but it's a larger psychological shift - it's a case of reframing one's identity as an individual to someone who is part of a pair.

If you require further proof, think back to a time you'd lost someone. Tell me you didn't exit a funeral home or leave the gravesite with a sense of vast emptiness. There's that space we were looking for. Granted. It doesn't always require a human or animal sacrifice. Sometimes a job loss, or getting dumped, or losing a place to live suffices. Once the panic subsides, a kind of numbness sets in that somehow stretches time and you're staring over the rim of the Grand Time (and Space) Canyon.

This is where I am. I always want more space for writing - and for dedicated mental/emotional energy to apply thereto, but that's another blog rant. I've had a specific vision for how that would work. Turquoise water, a beach, and a writing desk that looks over it all. While that pretty vision isn't assured, we are moving across the continent. From Seattle to Tampa, Florida. It's time to sail warm water.  To make the space for all of this to happen, we had to lose our home and our eldest feline. We had to lose a ton of assumptions about ourselves, too. Like a friend said, we defined Pacific Northwest. But you know, the moss has grown thick enough, I think. Time to redefine ourselves. I have no idea what the definition will be - but it will involve writing, another boat, cats, and the ocean. Always the cats and the ocean.

So what do I need to make space for? Nothing. The space is made. I'm wallowing in it. Now it's time to execute.