Here are some examples of my favorite writing from my novel Waiting for Paint to Dry. Everyone's writing is different. We all have our own voice. And I love that. I love my writing voice.
If you haven't found your voice yet, start writing. No rules. No critics. No barriers. Just write from the heat of the moment, let it all pour out. I found my voice shortly after reading Stephen King's "On Writing" in which he states, and I'm paraphrasing here, but it's perfect:
"This isn't Church. This is writing....Tell the truth."
Oh, and share. I love to share my writing, hence I do some freelance, this blog other blogs, song writing, poems and my novel. My baby. And I'm making it a priority this year to go big with my creativity, my voice, so hopefully soon I'll be done with this one and onto the next! ;)
In no particular order (no spoiler alert needed), here are some swatches from Waiting for Paint to Dry...
....
As the evening sun sinks behind the ocean, warm indoor lights illuminate the room and slow songs echo in from outside. Yet, party on everyone does. I try to excuse myself a handful of times to get some breathing room, grab a plate of food or two to go with my wine. Only El won’t let me out of her sight. She strong arms me, however elegantly, to meet more and more people. Soon, the introductions start to mount on the side of excessive and I start to feel like an expensive piece of jewelry she just has to show off to everyone she knows.
....I was careful to not get any paint on the floor thanks to the left behind paint cloth, but as for myself, I’m decorated head to toe in all hues of turquoise and beige.
....
The sound of the door slamming behind me doesn’t quite hit the right note, the right amount of force, loudness, deafening roar I need to hear. I want to crash. To out run this insanity. I almost trip on the leg of a pair of jeans dangling from my arms. I take two seconds to repack, re-stuff, and then I’m off. Down the steps. Toward the beach.
Anywhere but here.
