Kristin Schell
My toes are in the sand in Mexico, but I’m dreaming of France. It’s not a matter of the grass-is-always-greener or not being fully present where I am. It’s just the briny, turquoise waters have set my mind in motion. I’m a dreamer. The problem with being a dreamer is execution. Far too often my dreams remain just that. ….
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Those are my men—Husband and our oldest. I snapped this photo one day while they were discussing football. I don’t understand the half of it, but I love hearing their sports commentary. Husband plays the role of head coach in our house. He’ll clap his hands together and shout, “what’s your game plan?” I’m not much into sports, but I know…
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It’s a funny thing when you are old enough to look back and see the intricate handiwork of God in your life. Not funny ha-ha, but funny ah-ha. Like that moment in movie when it suddenly dawns on you what’s really going on. Before, the plot was like a jumbled mess of puzzle pieces chaotically waiting form and structure. Then,…
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It’s a damp, rainy morning, I’m jacked up on caffeine, and I’m writing a novel. Just like that I’ve become a cliche. It’s bold and terrifying to announce this whole writing a novel business. For the last several months I’ve debated how I would spill the beans that a very determined, and slightly annoying, character has taken up residence in…
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A freshly sharpened yellow pencil tickles my fancy. I keep jars and cups and pitchers overflowing with pencils in almost every room of the house. Mia taught me this. I returned home from consecutive weekends of writing retreats and smiled and the symbolic gift she left on my desk. A mother’s encouragement, she sharpened my supply filling an old…
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I’m stretching my wings this week. Launching a new website, offering my first ebook, and attending my first writers conference. I also lopped six inches off my hair, which may ultimately prove to be more traumatic than the other endeavors. Thursday, I’m headed west to the sunny shores of San Diego for Re:Write. I have no idea what to expect….
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