Dancing with the feet is one thing, but dancing with the heart is another.

Writers are, by all accounts of the word–SOLITARY. They enjoy being off on their own, locked into a room with their words sprawled out in front of them like little marching soldiers. I’m pretty much the same way. Being alone to explore and listen to the crazy muttering rumbling in my own head is a daily necessity.

While I wrestle with the expanse of blank paper to fill in, I have to admit my weakness… I consider the prewriting stage the most sensual. There, I said it. Something about raw emotions spilling out onto the page, unchecked and dripping with insane ideas is absolutely yummy.

But sometimes, being alone with your words gets…well, lonely.

And that, dear reader, is where this story is headed. Not that long ago, life took an unexpected turn for me. For those of you who don’t know me, (and that’s pretty much all of you save one or maybe two…) I don’t buy into the notion of randomness. In my world, there is a reason for everything. It might not make sense at the time, but it doesn’t always have to.

I had a choice. Stay the course and bury myself further under that pile of words, or explore new avenues of writing.

For me, it was a no brainier. And I can see a lot of head scratching so I’ll clue you in and tell you my new direction takes the form of collaborative writing. Yes, I dug my hooks in–because I’ve been told I’m “totally evil in a good way…”and I’ve found that when you open yourself up to the right kind of energy, real magic can happen. It’s a rare thing in my opinion, but writers who are of the same mind can take something ordinary and turn it into something that takes on a life of its own.

Like a simple Halloween dance. Building the Last Dance For Me.