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“Why do parents always use weird words?” Cade asked me one day when we were out in the garden.

“Hey, Mr. Chatty, you’re supposed to be pulling weeds,” I said. “And what do you mean, ‘weird words’?”

“You know, like ‘not right now,’ ‘maybe later,’ ‘we’ll see.’ Those weird words.”

The words we use to misdirect or quiet the shouting voices. The ones we use to convey nebulous ideas or delay, rather than answer.

You don’t have to be a parent to use weird words. Here are three reasons to avoid them in writing and in life: Continue reading “Three Reasons to Avoid Using Weird Words”

Today I’m guest posting over at Ben Emerson’s blog:

But the process of redemption is not always good to better to best. Sometimes it’s good to bad to very bad to better-than-you-ever-could-have-imagined.

Now head on over there for the full post: The Whole Dang Thing (should be up by 9am Eastern Time).

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If this is your first time here, have a look around. Some of my most popular posts have been:

The Opposite of Love is not Hate
Five Writing Secrets I Learned From the Princess Bride
If Fame Scares You, Do Not Click This Link

It’s amazing how quickly an ordinary day can become an anomaly.

Saturday for example: one minute I’m trying to find a quiet place in the house to get some writing done, helping Maile move some furniture, and thinking about finishing the chicken coop. Ten minutes later I’m driving into the hospital to see my grandmother who just had a stroke.

Or two days before that: Lucy and I were coming back from a little date at Target and Panera (the girl loves their broccoli soup and whole grain bread – she has her mother’s taste buds and desire to eat healthy, even at 6). On the way home we passed an accident. Cruising slowly by, I saw two cars with very little damage. But in the grass a fireman was giving a gentleman chest compressions.
Continue reading “Whatever Hurts Us Makes Us Stronger – Thoughts on my Grandma’s Stroke”

London will always be the city that I love.

Too many mornings we woke up together as I drifted into the north end of town on the first train, then disappeared underground for five stops, emerging at Victoria Station. Too many late nights we drifted off together as I slipped away in my Mini Cooper, listening to David Gray’s “Babylon” and hitting the M40, driving west toward the darkness and the smell of trees.
Continue reading “Can You Love a City?”

One of the worst things a writer can do is write a paragraph, then go back and fix that up, then write another paragraph, then go back and fix that one up. When I do this, I’m not moving forward, I’m not gaining critical speed.

I’m not learning fast enough.

If I write 100 words a day, always perfecting, always fidgeting, it will take me two years to write the first draft of a fairly average-length book.

730 days.
Continue reading “Living 1000 Words a Day”

Picture this: children running in circles around you and doors left open every time you turn around. Sliding doors slamming shut, then opening, then slamming shut, just for the fun of it. Early morning screams for cereal by two toddlers. Kids everywhere.

Maile’s mom, sister-in-law, niece and two nephews came to stay with us for about a week. The upside? Our four kids (yes, that makes seven total) were in cousin paradise, playing freeze-tag and flitting through water sprinklers late into the summer nights while the adults played Blockus and drank iced tea and caught up.

The downside? My family lives in a very small house and I am self-employed. We home school. We live very quiet lives.

Throw into the mix the fact that I am a hermit, often times a grouchy hermit, and my graciousness was sorely tested.
Continue reading “Rachelle Gardner and Bruce Nuffer: House Guests (in an Imaginary, Non-Weird Way)”