Uncategorized | Rhiann Wynn-Nolet

I’ve just received a very special award from fellow writer EM Castellan – Thank you so much!

You should go visit her blog, I had no idea she was an expert on all things Victor Hugo.

The Award

This award is, well, lovely, isn’t it? Suddenly I’m craving crumpets and Devonshire cream.

The rules of the award state that I must share 7 things about myself and pass the award on to 7 other bloggers.

~~My 7 Deadly Sins~~ 7 Fascinating Facts about Me:

1. My first paying job was at a racehorse training stable. I mucked stalls, groomed horses, cleaned tack.

2. The most terrifying dream I ever had involved polar bears. Hungry, clever, polar bears.

3. I’ve met two members of the band U2. Does that mean I’ve met U1? I’m not sure.

4. The house in Portsmouth, New Hampshire where I lived for a number of years was haunted.

5. My husband and I got married on Halloween, in a park under a weeping willow tree. So, you can understand why I really had no problem with #4.

6. My imaginary childhood friends included a posse of tiny old men who wore vintage golfing attire. I have no idea why.

7. Rhiann is actually my middle name. I loathe my first name and therefore never use it, unless forced by medical offices and legal contracts.

Now that you know ALL about me, here are seven other people you should get to know, or know better. Some of them I’ve just met on Twitter and we’ve been chatting. Others I’ve known for a while.

1. Kristy Shen

2. Jolene Haley

3. Cassandra Page

4. Stacey Lee

5. Katherine Amabel

6. Chris Allen-Riley

7. Colene Murphy

If your name is on the list and you don’t want to “play”, no worries.

Inspired by Winter…

Don’t get me wrong, I do more than my fair share of complaining about the bitter cold, the shoveling of icy slush, the power outages, and the bad driving conditions. But, there are parts of winter that I adore.

The Stillness.

The soft static of snow falling on snow. Or the eerie songs of coyotes serenading the moon, and each other.

The Beauty.

Drifts of diamond-dust sparkling in the sunlight. Twigs sheathed in ice. Pale apricot dawns and mysterious blue twilights.

The Clarity.

Winter allows me to “see the forest”. By that I mean, without all the greenery, I see the contours of the land, the rocky outcroppings, the trunks of trees, and the sky between them.

When I’m writing I sometimes get lost in my own story’s “foliage”, the pretty words, the symbolic imagery, the characters’ personality quirks. What I need then is a fierce cold snap, followed by ruthless wind gusts. Strip all those leaves away so I can see the rise and fall of the plot. I review my work without luxuriating in “the pretty”, instead focusing solely on the action, the turning points, the skeletal remains of the story. Because that’s often the only thing that survives in the reader’s mind.