Early Morning Ruminations

It’s 5:30 am, and I’m awake thinking.  My husband is feeding our daughter the milk I pumped at 5:00 and I’m supposed to be writing for NaNoWriMo, but I’m having a hard time concentrating.  I woke up to this.


I don’t have cable TV, so I didn’t see the news until I woke up.  As I sat there in the dark and began to scroll through my Facebook, I was overwhelmed by #pray4Paris posts, and as I learned about what I happened I was astounded once again by the capability we humans have to hate one another.  I don’t know why these terrorists killed so many people, and what the answer is to this crisis.  I see my friends demanding that the President take action.  But what exactly is he supposed to do?  The killers are dead or in hiding, and no official terrorist organization has claimed responsibility.

Sometimes I feel like Americans expect us to go busting into a country at the slightest sign of trouble like:



But it’s not that simple.

But another thing I noticed along my feed was the plethora of posts praying for people we don’t even know.  As appalled as I am by the amount of hate humans can express towards one another, I am always overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of love we shower over people in need.  I’m glad to see that America is offering aid to those who need it, and that we stand ready to help in any way that we can.  We don’t have to rush over there, guns blazing in a blind rage.  But we will be ready to stand beside them shoulder to shoulder if they need us.

And of course because we aren’t all in the military or part of an organization who has the means to “actually” go over there to help them, there are other ways that you can help.  How can you help?  Donate to the French Red Cross.  The American Red Cross is not accepting donations at this time for the Paris attacks, but the French Red Cross has already mobilized to help those in need.  They can certainly use our help.

Donate to the French Red Cross Here

That’s not the only thing on my mind though.  I’m participating in NaNoWriMo this year, and it’s tougher than it’s ever been for me.  For those of you reading who don’t know what that is, NaNoWriMo is a writing competition that takes place during the month of November.  You have exactly one month to write 50,000 completely unique words in the form of a novel.   You can’t have pre-written anything either, although you can brainstorm.  I’ve successfully completed NaNoWriMo in 2011, 2012, and 2013.  Last year I was too pregnant and too tired to compete.  My brain was being sucked dry by my growing daughter.  So this year since my body is my own again, I decided to compete and I’ve been consistently a day behind.  It’s very hard to keep up with the writing quota when you’re caring for a baby.  🙂  I’m not complaining.  It’s just a fact.

I’ve noticed things that have changed about my life since Lilly was born.  I don’t write that often.  I don’t blog that often.  I rarely play video games anymore, and my house is always a mess.  (although my house was always a mess before, but now I can blame it on being a mom)

But none of those things bother me.  My daughter is the most exciting thing in my universe and I couldn’t be happier.  She is healthy, extremely happy, and just the most beautiful little girl that I have ever seen.  She fascinates me more than anything, and she is everything that I ever wanted.  I knew I wanted to be a mom, but it wasn’t until she was born that I understood just how much I could love someone, and it is overwhelming.  A friend of mine once told me that being a mother will make you feel more vulnerable than anything you will ever experience again, and she was right.

My daughter is 8 months old now if you can believe it.  She’s crawling (guh!), standing up with the aid of furniture and is saying “mama” when upset and “dadadadadada” 90% of the rest of the time.  My husband is pleased.  🙂

Here are some updated photos of everyone.


Who had a Harry Potter party?  Um…WE DID!  Yeah, we’re that cool.  Be jealous if you weren’t there.  Message me if you want to be next year.  🙂


Guys, I can’t even!  She’s going to be running all over my house at any second!


And some super sweet cuteness.  Finger painting in the bath tub.  Don’t worry, it was just yogurt and food coloring.  She ate most of it.

Let’s start today on a good note.  I’m going to say a prayer for Paris, send a donation to the French Red Cross, and try to get my word count in before I get distracted again.  Peace.


Cassidy Stay

If you recognize this name, then you know what is associated with it.  Tragedy.  Let me start out by saying I am going to start off with something happy.

At my book signing on Mother’s Day weekend, a craft fair was taking place outside of the book store.  At the beginning of the signing a young teenage girl came bounding into the store excited to ask me about my book.  Her mother was working at the craft fair.  I gave her the details of the premise of my book, and she listened with an eager expression on her face.  She talked about how much she loved reading, and even more so reading young adult novels.

She literally made my day with her enthusiasm to read my novel, and her vibrant nature.  She ran outside, talked to her mother and came back ecstatic that her mother had given her the money to buy my book.  We talked for about twenty minutes about young adult novels while she perused my website on the tablet.  Afterwards she came back in before they all left and handed me her business card for Origami Owl jewelry.  I signed her book, and added her name to my newsletter, excited to have a fan in my book’s age group.


I’m sure you’ve seen it in on Facebook lately.  The terrible Massacre of the Stay family in Spring, TX.  It sickens me that this happened in my town.  I followed this tragedy this week, feeling so terrible for the lone survivor; a 15 year old girl named Cassidy Stay.  All week I’ve been talking about her sheer bravery and wit during the horrifying events that took place.  This girl managed to call the police to save her grandparents after being tied up, witnessing the death of her entire family, and then shot in the head herself.   You can read the full story at this website.

It wasn’t until this morning when I saw a photo of her as she was being released from the hospital that I realized that I’d met her before.  I did a double take.  A triple take, and then finally I had to know.  I hurriedly logged into my wordpress account and gaped at her name on my newsletter.  Sure enough, it was her.  My heart fell into my stomach.

Cassidy Stay is one of the kindest, sweetest girls I’ve had the pleasure to meet.  It breaks my heart even more knowing that this terrible thing has happened to her.

This girl deserves your money.  She deserves my money.  As much as I am able to give.  Someone has started a gofundme account for her, and I’m putting it right here.  She needs so much love and support right now.  I had to put it out there.  Help this girl if you can because she is so brave, kind, and has lost more than you can imagine.

Go Fund Cassidy Stay





Writing Styles

Over the years I’ve discovered something.  Not all writers use the same techniques to write.  Even though we speak the same language, the various writers I know all have vastly different ways of getting it done.

Stephen King in his On Writing, describes where he goes to write, and what his muse looks like.  He recommended writing in solitude, away from the television, and that his internal muse was more of a harassing asshole than the wispy pretty thing people think of when referencing a muse.  He looked something like this:

Sloppy man cartoon

Not exactly beautiful, or awe inspiring.  More of the get that writing done, or I’ll break your legs kind of muse I think.  Intimidating.

I have some author friends on Facebook who only seem to do their writing in public places.  Laptop, coffee shop, and a big mug of coffee.  To me, that sounds absolutely terrible.  I am so easily distracted, I would spend the next few hours people watching until I realized that I’d only written two sentences.

A friend of mine is going to Ireland to do his writing in solitude, near the ocean.  I’m insanely jealous.  That would be perfect.  So much inspiration.

I have a friend who uses a typewriter, and a friend who writes everything by hand in journals or on sheets of paper before typing them on her computer.  I shake my head a both of these things; not judgmentally mind you, but at how redundant these techniques are to me.  I want back ups of my files.  Copies everywhere of my work so that I don’t lose it.  I would never write any of my work by hand.  Not only do I have the handwriting of a serial killer, but can you imagine the hand cramps in sitting down to write multiple pages?  I get tense hands from writing a paragraph by hand!  Maybe that’s because I was introduced to laptops when I was 15.  I’ve been spoiled I guess.

I also have friends who post constantly about the fact that they’re writing with pictures and everything.  These don’t annoy me or anything, but it’s not my style.  I don’t want people knowing that I’m writing at this exact moment.  Pressure maybe?  Too many people keep asking me when my sequel is coming out, even after I assure them that I’m shooting for December.  Maybe it’s because I write every day.  Who wants to see a photo of that every day?  I bombard my friends enough with my author posts.  This blog will be one of them!  There are very few days where I don’t spend at least thirty minutes writing something.  Mostly the novel though.  I promise!

Here is how I operate.

My writing normally takes place between 6:00 – 7:00 am.  Lately it has also taken place during my lunch hour.

I need to be alone.  Completely alone, when everything is quiet.  I want my husband asleep, and I want my coworkers out and about away from me at lunch.  Once I’m alone, I can portal into the world that I’ve created and act my scenes out with the characters in my head.  If anyone or anything pulls my attention away, it’s like someone shook me.  I get so irritated when someone comes up and says,

“Oh, are you writing?”


“How’s the writing coming?”

Oh man, it was going great until you said something.  Now I’m back in the boring old office instead of in that awesome battle scene.  Please go away so I can refocus.  Mostly I smile and pray that they walk away.

I need the Facebook off, the TV off, and most importantly no human contact.  I can write for hours like this, until my hands get tired.

And as for my muse?  I’m not sure how to describe her.  When I’m writing something lighthearted, she’s my inner child.  That spunky, happy version of me.  When I’m writing something morbid or dark, she’s that brooding, angsty, teenage version of me with thick black eyeliner and fishnet shirts.  Is it narcissistic that my muse is me?  Not sure.  We all operate differently.

Mostly my muse is the stereotypical, whimsical, beautiful thing dancing around inside my head with awesome ideas.  As long as I write those ideas down when she gives them to me, we’re all good.  If not, then she’s a freakin nag

But here’s my point.  You might be a writer, reading this right now and think,

“God, that sounds awful.” when you read about my writing techniques.  But that’s what makes it awesome.

Just like every writer’s voice is different, so are their techniques.  I may shake my head at the way my friends work, but I realize that it’s what makes all of our writing so unique.



First Book Signing

So yesterday was my first book signing, and it was a real hit!

I was at Once Read Twice Sold Books from 10:00 am to about 2:30 pm.  I stayed about half an hour later than I originally planned because I had a feeling.  Sure enough, a woman from the Sports Clips next door came in while I was packing up looking for “the author!”  🙂  She said her son wanted to buy a copy of my book.  The best part was listening to her read the blurb of my book over the phone to her son and then saying “He’s going Yes!  Yes mom get it!”  I think I took a cloud home.

I felt beyond blessed and loved the entire time.  I sold a resounding 21 copies of my book (far more than I had thought I would).  At the beginning of the day, I’d told myself that if I managed to sell my book to just one stranger, I’d be happy.  I ended up selling my book to many strangers!

Not only that, but several people I hadn’t seen since around 2005 came walking in the door, and put my jaw on the floor.  It was awesome.  I was so happy to see that my constant Facebook advertising of the event had worked, and that people actually wanted to come out!  The best part for me was to see them with their families.  The last time we’d seen one another in person would have probably been at Senior Prom.  They arrived with their spouses and babies, and it was so surreal.  Several of my close friends and family came out too which made me feel even more spectacular.

Needless to say the event went superb, and I’m planning on launching the second book at their store.  I’d also like to find more bookstores so that I can do this again!  If you missed it, there are a few copies still available at:

Once Read Twice Sold Books
250 Cypresswood Dr.
Spring, TX 77388

You can also order a signed copy online right here.

And here are some photos from the event!  Enjoy.

photo 1

At my table!

photo 2

Signing a book for someone.

photo 2

Here’s the photo I put up on instagram to announce that the event had started.

photo 3

Custom bookmarks that I made for each book with my website on the back.

photo 1

One of my loving editors/bestie, Catie Tuley.  She rocks!

Thanks to all of you who made this event very special for me.

Subscribe to my newsletter!  It’s new!


David Edward Clounts Sr.

David Clounts Sr. was my husband’s grandfather.  He took my husband into his home when his mother abandoned him at a young age.  He helped raise my husband.  He contributed in making my husband the soft spoken, kind, and patient man that he is.

David was diagnosed with cancer last week, and was told he had five months to live.  We had planned to visit him next Tuesday after my fertility appointment.  I was going to make him pineapple upside down cake when he got home from the hospital.  If you have cancer, you get to eat whatever you want with zero consequences.  I had planned to spoil the crap out of him.  We thought we had more time.  Maybe even time to get pregnant, and bring a little good news to him during a devastating part of his life.

This Monday we got a call that his kidneys were failing and we needed to leave right away if we wanted to say goodbye.  I had a meltdown at work and left right away while my husband packed.  We made the five hour trip to Dallas in three and a half.

I won’t go into the details of how he looked, but he was in so much pain.  We watched him at some point take off his oxygen mask, shakily pull in his wife, and kiss her.  It broke my heart.

I don’t want to go into the details of how he died.  I want to talk about how he lived.

I knew David Clounts Sr. for eight years of my life.  He accepted me into his family from day one as if I had been there the whole time.  He was funny.  A real jokester.

He loved his iPad.  On it he would challenge us to beat his high scores on various puzzle games.  The man could do a Sudoku game in no time flat.  He admitted to Facebook stalking my bearded dragon, Lizby, thinking she was such a neat pet.  He loved videos about animals.

David was extremely frugal, but also generous.  I personally watched him spend twenty minutes deciding which brand of boxed mashed potatoes were the best deal.  But when I was in college, he was ready to buy us a house without thinking twice.  He helped everyone he came in contact with.  Whether it was explaining how to fix something, helping his family both personally or financially, or adopting various stray animals that had been abandoned on the road near his house.

With animals he was so funny.  A random stray dog would show up down the road, and end up on his stretch of land.  If I went to pet it, he would holler at me from across the yard.

“No!  Don’t pet it, we don’t want to keep it!” but five minutes later he would be petting the animal himself.  When the dog stayed for good he’d say,

“It’s because you petted it.  Now we have to keep it.” but he didn’t seem too upset by it.

There were always cats around outside that he fed.  Now there are only two left, but I remember so many animals around his house.

Current residents:
Max is a black mastiff.  Tex is a mutt, but he’s black and tan.  Molly belongs to Diana, the aid that takes care of his grandmother.  She’s a Britney spaniel.  Very cute.  Puff is a grey and white cat that will try his hardest to climb up your leg to get patted.  Jewel is a solid grey cat that continuously cries at you no matter what you do.  If you touch her, if you look at her, or pick her up, it will evoke a long drawn out meow from her.  Reno is a dog that lives with my husband’s father David Jr. who lives across the way, but Reno comes over to play.  Cricket is a rather mean cat that keeps to herself and lives indoors.  Don’t cross her path.  There is also a bird that loves being talked to.

In the past I remember Animal (Annie), a sweet, light colored, tortoiseshell cat.  A fat, shy striped cat named Stripes.  Tom, an orange tom cat.  Beebee, who looked just like Tex, but was so shy and loving.  Honey, a creme colored dog with curly furred ears, and Ace, Tex’s long haired brother.  No animal was turned away, and if he couldn’t feed them all he had friends who would take them in or re-home them.

I’m really going to miss calling him on my way home from work to hear him pick up the phone with a,

“Hellooooooo?” as he always did.

I’m going to miss coming down from upstairs in his house after spending the night to find him on the couch playing on his iPad.  He’d ask if we slept well, told us there was coffee, and he’d scoot over so I could sit beside him and lean on him sleepily.  I’m going to miss hearing him say he loved us whenever we’d end a call.  I’m going to miss hugging his neck before and after each visit.

I’m going to miss setting the table at this house before sitting down to a meal that my husband’s grandmother had cooked.  He had a specific fork that he wanted to use, and he loved sweet tea.  At the table we always set out butter, bread, and sweet pickles no matter what had been cooked.  He loved cookies.  He loved pecan wood, and pecans in general.  We’d find him picking up stray pecans around our old apartment any time he came to visit.  He was a man who worked with his hands.  He had a million projects, and saved EVERYTHING.

I didn’t have grandparents growing up.  They died before my teenage years, and I don’t remember them very well.  When I started dating my husband, I inherited the both of his and I’ve felt so much love these past eight years.

We loved him so much.  He was always kind to me.  He visited me when I was in the hospital, came to my very first surgery ever, buried my cat for me, changed the oil on my car, taught me how to do my taxes, taught me how to play Sudoku, spoiled me every Christmas and birthday, and helped pay for my wedding.  There are so many other things that this man did for me without ever asking for anything in return.  And that was just me.  I’m sure every family member has a lot to say, and a lot more memories.

He never asked for anything from anyone.  I can remember times where we’d ask if he needed us to help him chop wood, and we’d find him finishing chopping wood an hour before we arrived.  He hated it when we bought him gifts, but always acted like we’d gotten him the coolest thing ever.

I’m even going to miss his obnoxious sneeze.  It was so loud that you could hear it all over the house.  Almost like a bark and a sneeze put together.   🙂  Scared the crap out of me every time.

I’m going to miss his holey t-shirts that his wife begged him to let her turn into rags.  (holes bigger than my hand)  I’m going to miss his many baseball caps, and his cigars.  The smell of tobacco smoke reminds me of him.

He loved making “trash”, which is a chex mix/nut combination that you stir with butter and Worcestershire sauce.  You then cook it for a few hours, turning it every half hour.  We made it during the holidays.  He also loved making home made pizza that my husband says he’d trade with other kids at school.  It was a famous pizza made with cinnamon bun dough, and we’d cover it with toppings together.  (Mostly he’d eat the toppings and dictate where the rest should be set)

I felt like I was a part of something seriously special when I was around my husband’s grandparents.  While I know that his grandmother still loves me and will hopefully be around for many more years to come, a big part of the magic feels like it’s fizzled out.  A light has been shut off, and now we’re in a dark place, feeling empty.

I held his hand the last time I saw him and promised to take care of his grandson.  I told him I was so sorry that he was having to go through this pain, and that I hoped he felt better soon.  I told him I loved him, and that we’d do our best to help make sure his wife was taken care of.  I told him it was going to be alright.  As far gone as he was at that time, he looked at me and squeeze my hand so hard.  I will never forget.

The next day after we got the news that he’d passed away, we went to the hospital to collect his belongings.  I held his glasses and watch in my hands and felt like a part of him was still there with us.

That night, my husband and I both mentioned the next morning that each of us had felt his presence in our hotel room.  I know he was checking in on us to make sure we were okay.

We loved him so much.  I already miss him.

I know I’m not the only one.

We grieve that he will not be there when we have our own children.  We wanted so badly to see that happen.  We hope that he will get to meet them before we do in heaven.

David, you were the rock of this family.  The glue.  You were a warm, soft, glowing light filled with love and generosity.  Yet you were a tough, hardened worker with rough hands and a feisty personality.  The likes of you will not be seen again.

I love you.  We love you.  We miss you so much.  Rest in peace Papa.



Obituary can be read here.

News Update

It’s been too long since I’ve written a post.  So many things are going on.

First off, last month I was invited as the guest author of a book club called The Page Turner’s.  They read my book, and called me in to ask me questions about it.  As nerve wrecking as it was, I thoroughly enjoyed it.  It was refreshing to talk to an intelligent group of individuals who had actually read my book.  They gave me helpful criticisms to keep in mind for my second book.

I donated a copy of my book to the local library, and then began contacting local bookstores.

On 5/10/2014  I will hosting a book signing / meet the author event at:

Once Read Twice Sold Books
250 Cypresswood
Spring, Texas, 77388

From 10:00 – 2:00 pm


If you’re in the area, come out and get a copy of The Sage’s Eye, or get your pre-owned copy signed!  Or if you’ve already got it, just come out and say hello.   Since it’s Mother’s Day weekend, I might also have a special Mother’s Day book that your mom will LOVE called I Need You.

Lastly, I’ve recently started a YouTube channel for Lenora Howard where I am reviewing audiobooks.  I’ve got three videos up so far.  Check it out!



I’ve been a busy girl!


Literary Magazine Update

So back in December I launched my dream of starting a literary magazine for young adults.  To be honest, I haven’t received any submissions and it crushed me a teeny bit.

Talking with a good friend of mine yesterday, I told her I thought I might just shut it down.  She reached over and smacked me hard in the arm.

“No!  Don’t do that!  These things don’t just take off.  It hasn’t even gotten the attention it deserves from you.”  And then she proceeded to start telling me things I should do to promote it.

So I’ve decided I need to get my crap together and get back to it.   For starters, announcing it on Facebook and the website of course.  And here.

Listen up people!  If you’re a teacher and know some creative kids (you know you do), point them in the direction of my website.  Parents, if you have a creative kid or other relative that writes like a little mad man, send them my way.
Or if you, yourself is a writer of all things fictional and family friendly, head on over to my magazine.

There is no deadline until I receive enough submissions.  I will keep the website updated as I receive them so that we can reach some kind of a timeline for those who have submitted their work.  Also, there is no theme until I start receiving enough submissions to create one.  FREE TOPIC EVERYONE!

What are you waiting for?  Get on over there.


Updaaaaate of Doom!

Okay!  Many things have been going on lately.  Sorry I’ve been too lazy to get up off my butt and talk about it!

1.  I launched the It Fell Out of My Head literary magazine for young adults!  15% of all future proceeds are going to Ronald McDonald House  Houston!  Woo!  I’m also going to try and get with them about letting their creative little fighters submit their work as well.  CHECK IT OUT!

If you know a writer, send them my way!

2.  My Lenora Howard website is down.   I’m having technical difficulties.  It will be back up just as soon as I remember to call Go Daddy’s number and fix it.

3.  People are going crazy about Duck Dynasty and Phil Robertson’s statement.  It is ALL OVER my news feed like someone had word vomit.   Or several someones.  Half of it is “free speech” this, and the other half is “he’s a bigot” that.  Honestly, I’d rather just see some photos of babies, peoples food, and their dogs like normal.

I couldn’t care less about Duck Dynasty or anything the people on the show say.  In fact, I think this could accurately express how I feel about the situation.


No seriously…


4.  I got a new nephew!  Dillon Edward Clounts

I might literally die from the cuteness overload I have been experiencing lately, and the sheer joy I’m getting at the thought of meeting him this weekend.  🙂  So excited!!!!

I bought his big sister SO many Christmas gifts this year.

5.  My book got accepted into a BOOK CLUB.  A freakin BOOK CLUB!   In April, I get to talk to the fine ladies that read my book and answer their questions.  Can’t wait!

6.  I finished NaNoWriMo.  3rd Year in a ROW!  wooooo!

That’s about it for now.  I’ll be posting soon I’m sure.  Too much going on!

A Formal Feline Complaint

Dear Overbearing Human,

I just want to drink water.  A simple request if you will.  I’m not asking for much here, and I thought if I pointed out your actions, you may discover how foolish you look.

I do not appreciate it when you harass me while I sit atop the mantle on the fireplace and drink the water from the fish bowl containing the Marimo ball.  It adds a certain…flavor if you will?  I like this algae flavored water far more than the others but you refuse to let me drink it when you are home, to the point of plucking me from my perch in frustration.  I can, In fact hear you shouting for me to get down.  I was simply ignoring your heinous request.  You are most controlling.

I tried in vein to plead with you to leave the sink on when not in use by you, but you abruptly refused.  You even had the audacity to remove me from the sink as well.  I demand equality in my household, and I will continue to breach the sink every time you enter the bathroom in protest!  Every.  Time.  I will also walk on your make up while I’m up there.

You also seem to have a problem with sharing.  You get angry when I drink from your own glass.  I’ve lived with you for fourteen years, and you still refuse that simple request?  Do you realize how hard it is to shove your face down into a cup?  You obviously have no respect for my commitment.

I’ve also noticed your sensitivity to me drinking the water from the tub faucet when the bathtub is not in use.  I take a little credit for this as I have urinated in there several times, evoking anger from you.  I could see how you thought I may be about to urinate, but I promise those days are over!  For now…

Why not drink from my water bowl you ask?  Because the fat one and the ditzy one drink from it as well, and I don’t like them.  I’ve made this evident by slapping them publicly when pass me.  You have yet to notice it seems.  In desperation to avoid dehydration I have been forced to share their filth water with them.  I’ve done the only thing that seems hygienic, which of course is dipping my paw in the water and vigorously splashing the germs away before licking it off.  Not only am I wetting the wall, and creating puddles on the floor on a daily basis, but I am thoroughly disgusted.  There must be a better way.

Do you see the ridiculous lengths I have to go to?  All I ask is for a simple drink of water.  I hope, you read this and reconsider your actions in our household.



Leave the sink on today and all will be forgiven.  Do not, and I may have to pee on the floor in front of the liter box again in further protest.  We will see who wins this battle of wills.

P.P.S.I have nine lives.

It Fell Out of My Head

HUGE things are coming to the world of Lenora Howard.  After wanting to do this for  a long time, I’m finally going to do it!

Get ready…drum roll please….

I’m creating a literary magazine! 

Of course I’m still going to be working on my sequel; The Mage’s Circle, but this is something I’ve wanted to do forever.  I submitted works to high school literary magazines and I can’t tell you how awesome it felt to have someone read my work and say “Wow!  You’re an awesome writer!”

But I don’t just want this thing to be for teenagers.  This isn’t going to be your high school literary magazine.  This is for EVERYONE.  And I mean everyone.  Kids, grandpas, mothers, daughters, college students, teenagers, housewives,  – E-V-E-R-Y-O-N-E!  And you will be able to submit anything art related.  I want photography, artwork, poems, short series, and short stories.  I want to show off what you talented people have to offer.

Anyone will be able to submit work to me, and I will create the magazine accordingly.  There will have to be rules and submission guidelines of course.

I sat there trying to think of what to call it.  Something that is…ME-ish, and something that pertains to art.  So of course I called it “It Fell Out of My Head”

That title was the name of the first ever literary magazine I participated in during middle school.  It was one of many names that magazine had.  I wrote a poem with that title, and I have always loved it.  That’s how art is.  It’s like a shaken up soda can in your brain that wants to EXPLODE until it comes pouring out of your head.

I just bought the domain name and web hosting, and it’s going to be a little while until it’s up and running.  I need to get the legal issues, guidelines and format worked out before I officially launch the page, but I’m getting super excited.  I’m also going to be doing some research on how to protect my artists from having their work stolen.

But the bare bones of the idea will be that you will submit work to me, I will collect works from people at first until I have enough for the first edition, and then it will be uploaded to the website in a pdf format, as well as a flash program that looks like a book.  Best of all I will upload it to createspace.com where the works will be published in book format and available to purchase from Createspace.com, Amazon.com and the Kindle!  You could hold that book in your hands with YOUR work in it, and be able to show someone “Look!  I did this!”

I want everyone to be writing.  I want kids to write.  I want my friends to write.  I want you to draw, explore, and imagine for everyone to see!  Too many schools are taking the arts out of their curriculum, so it’s up to everyone else to put creativity out into the world.

I’ll update more on this later, but I’m so excited about this that I could burst!

Previous Older Entries

%d bloggers like this: