Tag Archives: writer’s block

Doubt (Pub Cheese Edition)

Posted on August 20, 2020 by PB Rippey

I ferried my laptop to the kitchen table and brought up my novel-in-progress. A poppy-orange dawn filtered through window blinds and the coffeemaker hiccupped sighs and I relished being the only human in our house awake, tapping the pg dn … Continue reading →

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It Happens

Posted on July 25, 2020 by PB Rippey

   

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Did I Or Didn’t I

Posted on April 23, 2020 by PB Rippey

UPDATE: Coupled with new findings this week in Santa Clara County, where the medical examiner confirmed that California had the earliest deaths from COVID-19 — on Feb. 6 and Feb. 17 — the new information suggests a national epidemic was … Continue reading →

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Business As Usual, Please

Posted on July 27, 2015 by PB Rippey

My dad passed away last September, although ‘passed away’ sounds too ‘death-lite’ for the actual event. If you’ve never been at the bedside of someone moving on, all I can say is, it’s probably not possible to brace yourself for the experience. Try … Continue reading →

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Snooze House

Posted on March 31, 2015 by PB Rippey

Lately, instead of writing at night I’ve resorted to rising early in order to revisereviserevise certain projects and I’ve realized: The loudest sound in the house at 5am? Despite our small zoo? And the programmable coffee maker’s generous peeps? And the refrigerator … Continue reading →

Posted in Adult writing, books, Children's Books, dog, Faction, Fiction, ocean related, Poetry, Quotes, Santa Barbara, Writer's Angst, Writing, Writing Progress | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Screens

Posted on November 15, 2014 by PB Rippey

Staring at  my writing, I heard what I thought was our younger cat pulverizing the bedroom window’s screen, as he does when he’d like to be let inside, despite the little Hobbiton upside-down-U’s we had cut in pertinent doors, just for … Continue reading →

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Angst (Cheese & Strawberries Edition)

Posted on July 3, 2013 by PB Rippey

When you man your bookshelves for hours, reading first pages because you are maddened by your own first pages and can’t recall how to begin a story or a novel without every palabra jumping out at you with a buzzer sound … Continue reading →

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April Lines

Posted on April 29, 2013 by PB Rippey

What a gift-packed month. Poetry has crammed my inbox daily. I went to a Rhapsodomancy reading at the Good Luck bar and listened to knock-you-off-your-feet lines from poets with poetry-spewing-volcanos where scalps should be. 1 day of NaPoWriMo left. So go on. Go write. You know you … Continue reading →

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NaMeSiDifStarDaiWri%#*Po Week (Partial Week Edition)

Posted on April 3, 2013 by PB Rippey

Next week (because my son resumes PreK after a 2 week spring break) is National PB Sit in a Different Starbucks Daily and Write a (insert expletive) Poem Week. Well, at least monday through thursday. Actually not tuesday because that’s when I … Continue reading →

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Switched Hats

Posted on April 5, 2012 by PB Rippey

All week I’ve taken a break from my children’s novels in order to scour my grownup novel—a few chapters a night. I have revised as I’ve read (of course), refusing to backtrack until I make it to The End. Or—something mostly kind … Continue reading →

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Quote For The Weekend (Churchill Edition)

Posted on March 3, 2012 by PB Rippey

Anticipating the arrival of this plaque for my bedroom office so that every time I glance up from revising, whether it’s going well, or whether I’m making ghastly grammatical errors, whether my mind is filled with creative synapses, or is … Continue reading →

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Dive, PB, Dive!

Posted on November 9, 2011 by PB Rippey

Funny—I looked in the mirror and there she was—deep-sea darling—my mind instantly obsessing on the Mariana Trench and how even though it’s the deepest spot on Earth I’m barely acquainted with it and how silly is that for an author revising a novel filled with … Continue reading →

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Wet Beach

Posted on October 25, 2011 by PB Rippey

Pashmina fog. You can’t really write that, but–“smoky” is cliché, the cat feet brilliance is spoken for and I have a gray pashmina I never wear that is the hue and untouchable texture of  last Saturday morning’s fog. You cannot write … Continue reading →

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Quotes Via Imagine

Posted on September 27, 2011 by PB Rippey

These are floating around Facebook right now thanks to Imagine Marketing. Let the Quotes For The Midweek begin! PS. I love Jennifer Egan. She was a guest at Bread Loaf when I was there and she was so friendly and … Continue reading →

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Quote For The Weekend (Late Edition Due To—Due To—Hm? Wot? Is Someone Speaking? I CAN’T HEAR YOU!)

Posted on September 10, 2011 by PB Rippey

I made up my mind at the beginning of my writing life not to write about my family and friends, since I want them to remain my family and friends. Others, it seems, have come to a similar conclusion. The … Continue reading →

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Quote For The Weekend (Early Edition Due To Fleeing The Heat For Environs Non-Inclusive Of Internet But Very Beauty-And-Beach-Infused, Which Means Instant Writing Angst As I Am Distracted By Natural Wonders–Although I May Surprise Myself—er, Or Surprise My Muse By Taking Her Phonecall Before It Vanishes Into Late-Night Candles, Sweetly Bubbling Fountains And Stargazing…??? Oh. Yes. I Really Need To Get Away)

Posted on September 1, 2011 by PB Rippey

“Write freely and as rapidly as possible and throw the whole thing on paper. Never correct or rewrite until the whole thing is down. Rewrite in process is usually found to be an excuse for not going on.” —John Steinbeck

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Reveries

Posted on August 9, 2011 by PB Rippey

I’ve been seeing so many people from my past lately—I mean the past past, hazy-rocketing back to elementary school and working up from there—and it’s affected my dreaming. I have hosted reunions in my dream homes, welcoming total strangers to parties … Continue reading →

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Avoidance: 10:30a.m.

Posted on July 27, 2011 by PB Rippey

Terrified to read my latest revisions, terrified to admit terror to self-terrorized Self, I have: Vacuumed, cleaned the parakeet’s cage, vacuumed, watered outside, worked out (oh the lengths my terror shoves me), and almost resorted to brushing the dog. Made … Continue reading →

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When I Write

Posted on July 1, 2011 by PB Rippey

I might wake up many times during any night due to: Nightmares involving fedora-wearing aliens intent on making off with my son. The certainty that I have heard a loud noise, which means rising from bed and checking my son’s room and the rest … Continue reading →

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Monday Tussle

Posted on June 6, 2011 by PB Rippey

Welllllllll…Soooooooooooo…It’s one of those mornings when you use that refrain as you do a Trader Joe’s run, a shoestore run for the little guy, a Target run and a Lowe’s run because you can’t live without knowing if they have … Continue reading →

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No Whining

Posted on May 6, 2011 by PB Rippey

No whining when it’s hard to write/revise because: 1. because a dog charged your cats at 6:00a.m. and in her haste to control her animal, the owner, lunging across your front yard and bashing into the wall below your kitchen … Continue reading →

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Fever!

Posted on February 28, 2011 by PB Rippey

I need the sort of writing fever that allows multi-tasking. I need to be able to be ill AND revise a novel and engage the 3 year old and toss the tennis ball for the dog, fold laundry, garden (i.e. yank … Continue reading →

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Poet Distracted By Whales

Posted on November 9, 2010 by PB Rippey

Had to take a break from editing Trouble. Did so by editing a new poem. It’s almost 9p.m. My spouse has once again passed out with the toddler when putting him to bed. There is nothing to distract me from editing … Continue reading →

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Time (said in 3 syllables)

Posted on October 25, 2010 by PB Rippey

Currently difficult to impossible to fathom where the time is going, has gone. October nearly vanished, we are actually moving into the hyper-acceleration months of November and December, when Thanksgiving and Christmas bleed into one and my son turns 3. Another year … Continue reading →

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Writing Companion

Posted on October 15, 2010 by PB Rippey

Sometimes Julian joins me in my bed office, keeps an eye on me while I fuss with the keyboard, picks at his rope, emits charming whistles. He’s a good listener when I read a draft out loud—although my voice seems to make … Continue reading →

Posted in Me and Us, Parakeet, To Explain, Writer's Angst, Writing, Writing Progress, WTF | Tagged , , , , , , , | 2 Comments