Writing

Missing Muse

/ Sheila McIntrye Good, Author / 1 Comment

My muse is missing. I think she may have run off with one of Santa’s helpers. Come to think of it, she may have snuck out with the Clown I  saw her hanging around with the week of Halloween. At any rate, she’s missing.

Since she’s been gone, I’ve been thoroughly distracted, and unable to find one creative thought to put on paper. Nothing, Nada, zilch. When she was here, I got up every morning my brain overflowing with story ideas. I could pick any one of my projects and work all day non-stop. Even a stranger’s comments overheard in passing can stimulate ideas, a character or scene. Now, All I can think of are the things I can’t think of and wonder where the Hell my muse has taken off to.

It has gotten so bad, I’m wondering why I bothered to buy my new apple laptop computer, although I admit surfing the web is much faster. My only hope is that she’ll tire of hanging around a guy who dresses funny and only shows up once a year. I’m pretty sure she hates the cold, too.

In the meantime, if you see her, send her home.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

Is It Good if They Shudder???

/ Sheila McIntrye Good, Author / Leave a comment

I love writing and belonging to a writer’s group. Receiving constructive criticism has improved my skills and pushed me to discover things about myself. So, it was with some trepidation I submitted a short story for their critique this past month. I knew would give them pause.

It was a genre I hadn’t written before, contained language I hadn’t seen in any of the groups’ writings, and the subject matter was deadly, diabolically so. I had written a short story about a woman murdering her husband, and I’d had a ball doing it. My husband and I shared many laughs, although he did make an announcement at Thanksgiving…. “If anything should ever happen …”

I admit I was a little nervous as I arrived at our monthly meeting, and when my time came for the round table critique, silence ensued. I wished the room had been bugged with a camera, as the looks on their faces were priceless.

“Uh, uh… She is cold…I don’t want to know her…” My peer shuddered as she tossed her critique to me. The others followed suit.

“It was completely believable…”

“She was a sociopath…”

Three of the six, actually, physically, shuddered as they handed their critiques. Their looks prompted me to ask, “Are you all going to disinvite me to the group, now?” We all laughed, jokes followed, and it broke the tension, which my story had created. Isn’t a story supposed to do? Create tension, be believable?

I had written a story just the way I had intended. Murder is not pretty or comfortable or warm and fuzzy. It should make you shudder. My short story did that this time.

Maybe, I’ll be a writer after all.

Writing Is Not for the Faint at Heart

/ Sheila McIntrye Good, Author / Leave a comment

This year has been a year of firsts for me. I finally began to do something I always wanted to do, and others encouraged me to do, I began to write. I am writing all manner of things, essays, short stories, working on a first novel, exploring my favorite genre. I joined a writer’s group quickly discovering I was kidding myself! I had a lot to learn. Writing was not for the faint of heart.

More than five months later, I am beginning to see improvements. I’m happy with the critiques from my peers. For the first time, stepping out and submitting to writing competitions.

I bought a laptop. The computer won’t improve my writing but will give me more opportunities to write. Now I can write anywhere. I’m improving, growing, discovering myself, and my talent.

I’m taking a risk, a gamble. I’m putting my voice, my words out in the world for others to read. I’m choosing to share all with you.

No, writing is not for the faint of heart.

Some will say I’m lousy, some will say I’m talented, some will say I’m boring, or have nothing to say at all. I say I’m doing what I enjoy. I’m learning. I’m writing. I’m living my dream.

Take my words as you will.

Cow Pasture Chronicles

/ Sheila McIntrye Good, Author / 1 Comment

I grew up on the outskirts of town and many afternoons’ were spent lost in the pages of books. An avid reader from as long as I can remember, I devoured books. My mother also a reader encouraged us, never censoring any of the books we picked up. So, a love of the written word came early and young. 

Her only exception to written words was a warning, she gave often. “Don’t ever put in writing, what you don’t want others to read.” I didn’t heed her words, particularly, as a teenager with love letters and diaries often getting me into trouble. Just as reading became second nature, so did writing. I filled journals with poems and essays, all in a secret place.

My secret place was the cow pasture behind our house. Nearly every day I climbed the fence and ran down the hill through a crowd of cattle to a stream. There under the trees, with the black-spotted cows looking on, I filled notebooks with writings. I found my voice.

I will be 58 years old this month, and for the first time ever I am putting on paper for all those who choose to read, my words. I write every day. Sometimes it’s an opinion, thought, or an essay. Other days I write short stories. I am working on my first novel and enjoy the mentorship of a wonderful writers group. I write because I love to write, and no longer have to hide down by a stream in a cow pasture.

Welcome to the Cow Pasture Chronicles.