Should You Write Everyday??

Bernadette Benda

If there is one maxim that haunts the life of every writer, it is this one.

You should write everyday.

The saying has been around since – well, not since the dinosaurs roamed the earth, but it has been around for a while. Since it’s been around for a while, it has gathered a bit of well, controversy around it.

There are two sides (as I see it) that people take about the saying.


Ahem. That’s side one.

The second side says: Don’t worry about it! You don’t have to write every day! Do what works best for you! Never let anyone tell you if…

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Pump It UP

Pump It Up

There was a young lady called Kate

Who had an unusual trait

She could inflate her chest 

Through a pump in her vest

She gave a big squeeze on a date

Fake Bake

There was a young man who liked cake 

And was proud of all he did bake

His meringues were sound

His tarts renowned

But his cream horn was just a fake.

Miss Whippy

A young lady loved walnut whips

But they only lasted two licks 

As she opened her jaw 

All the men were in awe 

And said, “does she do other tricks?”

I Put It Out There

Following on from the last post……

I went on to expose myself in a public place.  Not that I whipped off my old lady clothes and ran down the street naked, no, it was worse than that.

This novel of mine has been rumbling on for years and I have made vague comments about it, to my closest friends. It’s like one of those endless scarves you knit as a child,  or was that just me?  

Friends know you are doing it, and occasionally ask how it’s going, but it’s the not the most riveting of topics.

I decided to use strangers as my guinea pigs, before inflicting my work on friends. Wise decision, as it turned out, as I was mauled.

The stitches of my scarf unravelled as they pulled it apart line by line.  My precious bits of prose were decimated, my characters pilloried.

They made me see it with fresh eyes and they were all so right.  Six critiques so far and they have all found different holes and errors.

I have completely revised the first chapter, the experience has been invaluable.  My knitting needles have been adjusted.

 It’s all there on Scribophile.  If you are not familiar with the site, I fervently recommend it.  You gain points by critiquing other works and when you have sufficient, you post your darlings and wait for the fall out.   It’s brilliant.  If you already subscribe,  or decide to join, say hello to me on there.

Meet and Greet: 7/14/17

Let’s all have a big group hug.

Dream Big, Dream Often


It’s the bimonthly Meet and Greet everyone!!  Strap on your party shoes and join the fun!  

Ok so here are the rules:

  1. Leave a link to your page or post in the comments of this post.
  2. Reblog this post.  It helps you, it helps me, it helps everyone!
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  5. Share this post on social media.  Many of my non-blogger friends love that I put the Meet n Greet on Facebook and Twitter because they find new blogs to follow.

See ya on Monday!!

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I’m Putting It Out There

There comes a time for us fledgling authors to take a leap into the unknown and show our writing to a willing victim.

For someone who’s aim is to take the publishing world by storm, (in your dreams, girl), I have been strangely reluctant to do so.

I can only attribute this to basic insecurity. But is that not the trait of us all, despite the bluster we muster?

We are all beasts of contradiction. My ego is as big as a house, disguised under a layer of self deprecation, but at the same time, perhaps I am nothing special and will fail to sparkle.

What if my writing is no good, or worse, is actively bad? My ego tells me it compares favourably with works in my genre. Reality says, ‘Think again, hot shot.’

I have shown no-one my fiction so far, even though I am on chapter 19. It’s time to take that leap though, as I need to know my weaknesses, shatter those delusions and move forward to conquer.

On Gifts

The Death Project

When I first received this diagnosis, I also received a gift. (No, I will not offend anyone who is suffering directly or indirectly from cancer—or any other misfortune—to suggest that cancer itself is the gift. Cancer is just shitty luck, which any of us can get no matter what good or bad choices we’ve made in our lives. And I would so gladly give it back if I could!) The gift I received, virtually at the same moment as the diagnosis, was acceptance. (I’m calling it a gift because it was just suddenly there for me.) This gift has proved incredibly valuable. It has meant I have been freed from a range of difficult emotions and reactions one might expect with a terminal diagnosis. Most wonderfully, it has meant no anger, denial, desperation, or despair. I have also been most blessedly free of depression, fear, anxiety, and bitterness. This is…

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