Rebecca’s Reflections
Dogs, Not Bears
From the moment I awoke the sun was working its way out, tinting the sky outside my window a wispy lavender. Wilson saw that I was awake and came over to give me a lick on the lips. I tolerated it. Since he is normally so undemonstrative, I don’t mind an...
Hemlock Haven
Hemlock Haven was my mother’s place. She discovered a quiet grove of hemlocks on the southern point of the Tennessee property. The hemlock branches were low and stately and ferns grew in the bed of needles beneath them. My father built my mother a little bench under...
The Pond
October 11, 2012, Thursday As my writer retreat wears on, I’ve developed a routine. I rise early and take a quick walk around the mountain ridge with my dog Wilson. And then return to the cabin to let the morning mists dissipate. (In the mists, all stumps look like...
The Magic of Twilight, the Suspense of Dawn
Mid-morning. I’ve been in my writing retreat now for a week, plotting my novel, dreaming my characters, imagining murders and mystery. Unexpectedly, I’ve become embroiled in a mystery of my own, terrified of the bear sightings my neighbor Earl has recounted to me. I...
The Secret of Fire Lighting
October 9, 2012, Tuesday The ninth day of my writer’s retreat. The cabin is growing more comfortable. I am almost used to the noises that the woods make. Each leaf that falls creates a sound—some louder than others. As I type this I hear a strange, irregular drumming...
Running into Plot
On social media some writers set store by whether someone is a “plotter” or a “pantser.” Do you try to outline your story first, charting the direction of the plot and planning the different characters? Or, do you just “fly by the seat of your pants,” letting the...