30,000-word Milestone Reached for “Seeds of Life”

For several years, the Seeds of Life story has rattled around in my brain. To silence the chatter, I started recording it on September 13th. I write approximately 500 words a day at this time of year because there’s so many other things going on.

On October 27th, I reached the 30,000-word milestone. When it comes to writing, my journey is like crawling up a large seesaw. At first, the going is slow; the climb is steep, and I need to build momentum. Then, around the mid-way range, the  seesaw levels out, and I pick up speed. The seesaw soon starts to tip in the other direction, and by the time I’ve crossed over to the last 1/3 of the story, I’m travelling quickly, non-stop to reach the end. It’s a rush, and I’m excited to learn what happens. I burn the midnight oil and I rise early to continue the adventure. I ignore everything and everyone until the final words are recorded.

At 30,000 words, I’m one-third the distance to the end. Within three weeks, the seesaw is going to be level, and then I’ll write a few thousand words a day. I expect to finish this story by the end of November. It will ripen for the next few seasons, then, if all goes well, it will be published December 2021.

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First Scene: “the Salvation of Mary Lola Barnes”

Introducing the first scene in the Salvation of Mary Lola Barnes.

the Salvation of Mary Lola BarnesMary stared at the piece of cake on the decorative plate. The virgin white icing held little hint of the mile marker that had been scrolled across the surface of the portion consumed by family and friends. Its absence hadn’t erased it from Mary’s mind. If anything, it reminded her of the huge chunk of time carved out of her life. She had lived half a century, making her an older woman than she had been last week. The consumption of this last piece from the celebration cake would commit her to this age, condemn her to old age in the eyes of the incredibly young. There was no way to hold on to youth; celebrities had proven it time again when they exposed themselves to the outside world without make-up and un-photoshopped.

The ache for the past swelled in her chest. It was not that she wanted to be eighteen again; she wanted only to have a little more substance in her life. A little more laughter, a little more variety…a little more gentle contact with the man she loved. Was that too much to ask for?

She released a sigh. It was the way life went, she was told by others. Her friend, Louise, had put it bluntly: Don’t expect anything more than what you have. A woman’s role is to grow old beside their man.

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