About the Author
She is taking her time reading the changes that I have made to the contract. It takes everything I have within me not to snatch it from her hands and read it to her myself. Move it along, Anastasia. Move it along.
Watching her facial expressions closely as she reads, I see them quickly change from a a victorious smirk to a frown. She seems to be pleased with the changes, changes that she wanted, but something has displeased her apparently. And here we go…
“So the obedience aspect of the contract still stands?” she asks confused and irritated.
“Oh yes, Anastasia,” I reply with a grin. But that grin quickly fades and turns into a stoic expression as my lips press hard together watching as she rolls her eyes at my unwelcome response. “Did you just roll your eyes at me, Anastasia?”
“Possibly? It depends on what your…
View original post 1,154 more words
When students ask me what my “one piece of advice” is for aspiring writers, it’s usually: Read. But my second piece of advice — something people rarely ask for — is almost as important. That piece of advice: Cultivate a group of friends willing to read your stuff before it’s published.
I recently taught a workshop about writing book proposals, and a professional copyeditor was among my students. This was his advice, too: Don’t turn anything in ever without having at least one other person read it first. Other people can see holes in your work that you can’t. They can point out places where your knowledge and research is overwhelming your ability to see that others won’t understand something. They can tell you, whether you like it or not, when you’re not making a lot of sense to anyone who does not have your brain. (One of the other…
View original post 631 more words
It’s five o’clock in the morning and as usual, I find myself unable to sleep. Leaving a peaceful, sleeping Anastasia in bed, I make my way out of the bedroom and into the great room where I sit down on the bench behind the piano and begin to play. The dark melodic tune begins to fill the room, and it isn’t long before she appears beside me.
“You should be asleep,” I scold.
“So should you, Mr. Grey.”
“Hmm…” And I give her a disapproving glare as she attempts to scold me right back. “Well, I cant sleep.”
I continue you to play as she sits down beside me on the bench, resting her head on my shoulder.
“What is this?”
“Chopin,” I reply, finishing the piece. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t. I think I’m still on Georgia time.” She shrugs, quickly continuing on with her early…
View original post 629 more words