Category Archives: Samples of My Writing

Samples of some of my personal writing from over the years: the good, the bad, and the I-just-love-it-even-though-I-can’t-use-it.

The #DigitalDetox Poem

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#DigitalDetox number 7 was to write a poem. I'll detail my feelings about how the week went with this challenge in another post, but for the moment, I thought I would share with you the poem that was created.

It's not a masterpiece by no stretch of the word, but it's not a disaster either. However, there was a theme to it that sort of shows where my mental mindset is at the moment.

It was written while I was driving, using the dictation app that I discovered on my phone.

Enjoy.

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Heart in Turmoil: A Poem from 1996

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The following free-form poem was written in 1996 when I was studying engineering at university.

Heart in Turmoil

Love is funny. You sit around waiting for a dream. Yet, there's another right there.

But it's the dream you want, even though you know it won't last. You keep asking yourself, "How long must I wait?" Yet, there's another right there.

The dream you've known for years. You know his thoughts, his actions, his dreams and fantasies. You know him so intimately that you even know what he is thinking before he does. But he's only a dream, and there's another right there.

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Friendship: A Poem from 1997

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I was digging through some old notebook and came across a stack of free-form poetry that I wrote when I was in college. Yes, I dabbled with the poetic verse in my youth. I'm not saying that it's any good, not by a long shot, but for a person who was studying engineering at the time, the emotion still rings through loud and clear.

(Shock horror... An engineer who actually expresses emotions. What is the world coming to?)

I thought I would share with you a piece that was written in 1997.

Friendship

Friendship is one of the most important things in the world. It forms the foundation of every lasting relationship (no matter what shape it possesses). Without friendship, you lack the trust needed to survive in this crazy world.

Your friendship is like the solid ground under my feet. It keeps me standing strong and tall.

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The Rabbit (Deleted Scene)

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There are times when I feel like a fraud. I have been a beta reader and critique partner for many writers over the years, pointing out areas where stories are weak and where they are strong. I'm a freelance editor with Black Wolf Editorial Services, contracting my services out as a developmental editor, helping other writers shape their stories into masterpieces. However, to date, none of my fiction has been published. I am a published writer, but all of my personal publication credits are non-fiction.

A few of those whom I have provided editing for have gone on to obtain traditional publication contracts. Some have self-published. In most cases, I've received some form of acknowledgement, but I am unlikely to ever get editorial credit, because developmental editing is an early-stage editing — editorial credits commonly go to the copyeditor of a book.

Some writers from my early days of being an editor were actually disgruntled by my comments, even though my comments highlighted the good... and the areas that could be improved. Recently, I heard from one of those writers, and she gave me words that actually lifted my soul.

I wanted to give [you] a way belated thank you.

You did some extensive crits on my works a long, long time ago. I wasn't ready to hear it at that time and did not appreciate them. I'm trying to improve and see now the honesty and TRUTH in those crits. I just wanted to say thank you for investing the time in me. It pushed me to be better.

Well, like that writer, I'm pushing myself to be better. Part of that process is to suck-it-up and share with the world some of my fiction — proving to my readers (and myself) that I really do know how to craft a story. So, I decided to share with you a deleted scene from my high-fantasy novel, Beacon of Hope. The novel itself is currently sitting in that metaphorical drawer, as I have a mental hangup about querying the thing, but still...

I hope you enjoy it.

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Misinformed Fathers and Aftershocks…

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She sat at the dining room table staring at the laptop. The nerves were shot and she wasn't getting much sleep, but one thing was helping with her mental sanity — her writing. Ironically, the anxiety brought on by the quaky earth fueled the tension of her story.

Her cell phone chimed. It was a message from her father. "Don't worry about clean up at work. It's in the street." Her jaw dropped. Without pause, she flicked over to her web browser and brought up the University of Canterbury website, searching for signs of what her father was talking about. Her heart raced out of control with worry for her colleagues. While she had been working from home when the quake hit, she had been in email communication with those in the lab. She was afraid that one of them had died and she didn't know.

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