Reflections on a writing life by Leanne Dyck

The story comes to me fully formed but barely visible. In order for me to see it (capture the tone, follow the plot) I must become the story. So if I'm writing a children's picture book, I see the world through a child's eyes. The ordinary becomes the unusual. Mushrooms are thrones for frogs. Twigs are boates from fairies. If I'm writing a mystery, I become paranoid. Why did that car drive passed? Where are they headed? What are they doing? 

(Most of the photos that are published on this blog have been taken by me (Leanne Dyck) 

and are of Mayne Island. If they aren't or haven't been, I will tell you so.)

I'm thrilled to be living a writer's life. It fulfills me, even though the process isn't always easy. The dark narratives do effect me. I once shared this with a friend. Her advice was to write something positive. But I knew I couldn't force the story to be something it wasn't. If I tried to do that I knew I would lose sight of it. I knew I had to peer through the fog and record what I saw. I knew that I had to be true to what I found there.

The writing life does come with its share of frustration. It feels like establishing my career is taking so unnecessarily long. If, for example, a publisher had accepted my novel several years ago it could be a bestseller by now. 

But, as I re-write said novel, I'm so glad that acceptance letter didn't come. Sure it was good then but it's so much better now. Sure it flowed then but it flows so much better now. 


Building an author career isn't a race; it's a journey of discovery.

Work with all your heart, because--I promise--if you show up for your work day after day after day after day, you just might get lucky enough some random morning to burst right into bloom. (p. 63 Big Magic:  Creative Living Beyond Fear by Elizabeth Gilbert)

Next post (Monday, February 29th):  Book review:  The 100-year-old Man Who Climbed Out The Window and Disappeared
How I found this book and what I thought while I was reading it. 

And we lean on each other by Leanne Dyck

(rock art by Byron Dyck)

Let's begin this post with one of my favourite Beatles songs, shall we Help --or more to the point Lean on Me

Okay, now that we've sent the mood... 

Authors work alone and yet we all need one another from time to time. That's why I joined a writing group and why I enjoy inviting authors to make guest appearances on my blog. And even though it's not always possible with my rigid blogging schedule (Monday and Friday, without fail regardless of...blab, blab, blab. Fingers crossed), I enjoy participating in blog tours. I view it as yet another way to connect with other authors and have fun. So when Debra Purdy Kong (Casey Holland Transit Security Mysteries) invited me to participate I readily agreed.

(rock art by Byron Dyck)

In order to participate I needed to answer questions four (any Monty Python fans our there?)

What are you currently working on?

Um, well... I take too big a bite when I'm eating and I...

I'm currently working on two novellas (literary and a mystery), a play (yes, a play. I never thought I would but it's a local contest--so how could I refuse?) and two short stories. Oh, yes, and I'm up to my earlobes in revisions. It's all tons of fun. There's not enough hours in the day. But if I were granted more I'd fill them with writing projects.

How does my work differ from others of its genre?

Simple answer:  its my work. By that I mean, my work is heavily influenced by what interests, inspires and concerns me. For example...
I'm dyslexic and am disappointed by the lack of support for adults with learning disabilities. This lack of support leaves learning disabled adults with health and employment problems--some of us wind up on the street or in jail. Potential lost. Lives wasted. But it doesn't have to be this way. Something must be done. All of us deserve to have an opportunity to have our own success story.

Increasing society's knowledge of dyslexia is a good starting point. Hoping to help obtain this goal, I've written a novel about my own experiences with dyslexia.

Why do I write what I do?

My junior high English teacher introduced me to authors like John Steinbeck who gave voice to ordinary people living ordinary lives. And, so, at an early age, I found what I was driven to write about. I've never regretted accepting this invitation.

How does my writing process work?

I write daily and work on a number of projects simultaneously. I'm actively participating in social networking and view this participation as a way not only to sharpen my writing skills but also as a way to exchange ideas with my fellow authors. So I spend each morning (7 days a week) engaged. Then I go for a 45-minute walk and usually end my workday by reading for an hour.

(rock art by Byron Dyck)

Sharing my author journey...

I finished writing my play. And on June 20th I'll share it with some friends, after receiving their valuable feedback, I'll sit back down and

Writing a word

Lately, The Sweater Curse has been demanding a lot of my time. Because I believe in the quality of this work, I've happily allowed it to fill my day.


Yesterday, however, my WIP (work in progress) demanded my attention.


Each writer creates in their own way.


Sometimes I write in free hand and fill several pages of a journal.


Other times, like yesterday, I work on the computer and dissect each chapter scene-by-scene, word-by-word. Reading over each scene, I add more and more detail so that the reader will be able to fully experience the story. As I read, I ask is the writing clear? Should a word be deleted or added? A paragraph? A scene? It's painstaking work. Progress is slow.


"How slow?" you ask.


Here's a month of work


December, 2010


day 17-- 21, 307 words


day 20--22,456 words


day 30--22,728 words


January, 2011


day 17--22,895 words


Slow--yes, but I will continue to write at my Muse's pace. It isn't about sped--it's about quality.

However, that said, one thing I hope to amend--divide my time equally between The Sweater Curse and my WIP. Obstacle: I don't like to empose restricts on my work.

Here is the last new sentence I added...

'My back slammed into the seat, my head fell onto the headrest, I stared at the ceiling as I mumbled a silent prayer--Please I don't want to die'