My Sister’s Keeper

I just finished writing my first novel, (thank you, thank you, hold the applause please 🙂


through out the process I realized two things, one there is beauty in everything and stories are composed of the little daily details that add up into one ironic or paradigm shifting moments that are worth telling to other people. Everything holds a story and all stories are beautiful, and everyone is the hero of a story, those are my two golden rules as a writer.

The moment I really digested this as a rule of thumb everything started to make sense. Of course people see things differently that I do!

So it’s my choice now, do we sit across the room squawking about how our view is better, to busy barking at the many reasons why, how, what, where, or when it was, has, or will be better in the future.

Or will we share our details without all the reasons and secret views we’ve created with each other without taking offense, in order to broaden the panoramic we all aspire to achieve? When I look for the beauty and love-ability of an object, I begin to see more of it in my life.

The nefarious they always say ‘the devil is in the details…’ but I would like to offer a different version of the same rule.

The devil is in the details we miss…


The moments we are dealt a boost through detail so pointed and simple it was profound the experience could have only been meant for yourself…


The million sunsets that came and went because business demanded our interest elsewhere. and then the one that finally catches your weary eye while you are stuck in traffic and forced to indulge in its splendor.


Life finds ways to make us realize our areas of grace, the things we are grateful for, for those of us stubborn enough to resist the simplicity of simply being and allowing your experience and better judgement guide rather than the fear of the judgement we will feel from others.

As a writer, I catch my little details playing tricks on me. Sometimes my characters start to look a lot like me, the conversations feel like they are guided by some unspoken sentiment and lead in a passive aggressive way toward answers to the questions I’m asking myself.


As a writer, to my fellow writers, in this scenario, meditation is the best and worst thing that has ever worked for me consistently. It’s like the slice of ginger and wasabi on a sushi plate.

I highly suggest it for cleansing the mental palate, it works like a charm.

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