\vō-ˈkā-shən
  • a summons or strong inclination to a particular state or course of action | especially: a divine call to the religious life
  • the work in which a person is employed
  • the special function of an individual or group
I began writing by chance, pure and simple chance. And believe I still write the same way, truly have no idea why or for what, but I intend to find out.

Don’t know for sure if it’s a vocation (or vacation?), a mission, or a whim. Or if it’s nothing. But I love to write. And once I start and become almost absorbed by it, it comes non-stop. Almost to the detriment of my writing, as I cannot keep up with the dialogue, scenes, people … and write everywhere at all times — this is a theme of mine. So I have drawers and boxes filled with paper, notepads, notebooks, scraps of anything I can get my hands on.

To write or not to write ... that is the question

AFTER WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

My first real writing, besides scribbles or poems (some of which I am embarrassed to even read), happened while I was commuting to my then job in New York City — a three-hour train ride at the time, which I took on Monday or Tuesday, then returned home on Thursday or Friday. I traveled a lot then, too, so I wasn’t in the city week after week. Anyway, one day, on my way to work, I wrote to let out sorrow and heartache. Just wrote and sobbed until it all stopped.

I found those pages months later and was dumbfounded at the dialogue — it was a conversation between two women I had never thought of or knew. Sitting here writing this, I believe they were both me … wished I had known that then. I wrote about this epiphany on HOW IT HAPPENED.

Now, I write on surfaces (mainly paper or paper-like substitutes when the real thing is unavailable) and on Scrivener, which is a fantastic tool for organizing. Since I am not, overall, organized where it matters, my scrivenings are as much a hodgepodge as my paper scribblings. Although I must admit, I am getting better at organizing.

A Tale To Tell, the novel I am currently writing, is a mass of snippets and scenes, disjointed thoughts and dialogue, though with a distinct purpose — and the title, which I thought of as I wrote the idea for it and the first paragraphs! I must begin to piece it together. What doesn’t work will go into Parts Taken Out. Both of my other novels have a Parts Taken Out document. In Scrivener, it is a folder from which I take or add.

The Tale began one Saturday morning after the blast of a fire alarm shot me out of bed at five a.m. No fire, no smoke — it just went off blaring. A wake-up call? Maybe. Some things happen that way. Over ten years ago, that was, but at last, I’m on it.