M.A. Wohl

Writer on a Quest !

The first time I drove all by myself, freedom overcame every cells of my then teenager body. What a feeling ! I was FREE !

I could drive to New-York, Mexico, Buenos Aires if I wanted. I had a car, barely any money to fill it up but who cares. I could go anywhere.

The whole wide world wide mine. (On this side of the Atlantic anyway.)

Time went by, of course. To the grocery store. To the daycare. To the park in the next little town my kiddo loves so much.

I drive though our little routine without thinking, sometime wishing I had the guts to drive pass my street, pass this small town and head to anywhere, once I’d said hello to New-York.

Just because.

The Breathless Passenger

That morning, I’m just back from dropping kiddo to the daycare.

My mother-in-law calls. She can’t breath, she says. It’s the second time in a week.

That morning, she agrees to go to the hospital and ask if somebody could drive her to the hospital.

Her son doesn’t drive.

I rushed to the car. It’s a 30 minutes drive to get to her place, 15 minutes to get to the hospital. Without traffic.

Two hands on the wheel, I don’t understand a word of what they’re talking about on the radio. I struggled to NOT exceed the speed limits, NOT to call an ambulance anyway, NOT to yell every time I had to slow down.

I park the car right in front her building. She had to pause in the middle of the sidewalk.

In the passager seat, my mother-in-law is breathless but tries to hide it. Her usual rosie cheeks are closer to a soft grey, like old ashes.
She looks straight ahead, window wide open even it’s 40 degree Celsius out there and she thoroughly dislike heat wave (who does?).

I drive.

I turn left instead of right.
I miss my chance for the green light.
I have to wait for people to cross the street, ever so slowly.

I want to cry.

And yet the bad jokes and small talk keep blurbing out of my mouth. And the breathless passenger keeps smiling.

Failing Heart

Later that day, I drove back home. Through the traffic, through the bridge. That exit to New-York City cames right after.

Little did she know, my mother-in-law had had an heart attack, several days before. We got to the hospital just in time.

Her failing heart needs help, and that’s exactly what it’s gonna get. From the doctors first, then from us.

All our lives changed for good, once again. Gotta love it about life. Everything seemed figure out. But then – yeah, no. Sorry not sorry. As always, life is on a roll.

To the grocery store. To the daycare. To the clinic.

I smiled at the New-York City sign. I’ll go back there again one day… with the whole family.

Are we ever so far from there.

I guess it doesn’t hurt to hope.


Many words for many stories followed the first restless nights.

Back at my desk again, back looking at my kiddo’s pictures every now and then. I choose one from last Halloween, one from last Easter. You should see the excited-by-the-chocolate-perspective smiles.

From time to time though, my minds wanders back to our tomorrows. Faster than a blink, a gentle tremor of anxiety takes hold of me.

Breath in, breath out, I tell myself. And keep writing.

Dear fellow writers, I hope you’re safe and well.

May all the good words be with you!

Do you like walking in the woods? When I need to bring back peace and quiet to my heart, I head for a path in a forest near by.

Especially during Fall.

Tree leafs turns bright yellow, warm orange, sparkling red and soft brown when Fall comes knocking around here. Beautiful doesn’t cover it, not one bit.

The beauty simply overtake every other waking thoughts that may wonder in my writer brains.

Until, from the corner of my eye, we catch a glimpse of something moving. Too fast to be a deer… Too big to be a squirrel… What if it was…

Then, a story starts twinkling. Just an idea.

From there, everything goes.

Writing Mood and Fall Gloom

Fall is certainly bright and shiny at times, but more than often it’s gloomy and cold. Which, in my humble writer opinion, is the absolute best time to write.

Thing is, even though we have a preferred time of the year to let ourself wander in the Words and Imagination land, it’s not always possible to just go with the writing mood.

Nor should we feel pressured to write just because November strikes back, yet again.

Setting writing goals and book time for writing is one thing. Going crazy angry because something goes wrong with the plan in another, and not an interesting one.
I know the crazy angry path well.

I worked hard to be able to finally get over this awful idea that was constantly dragging me down: « my life is getting in the way of my writing dreams ».

Now, all that’s left to do is go back to writing and let go of self-imposed pressure and stress. Oh, and I’ll do good without the impostor syndrome too !

Dear fellow writers, it’s always great to be able to share my writing adventures with you. I hope your safe and well.

Until next time, may all the good words be with you.

A friend lended me a book.

Well, three really. So far, it was the longest novel I’d been in contact with.

I was twelve. The title was: « The Lord of the Rings« .

In a Writer’s Heart

I finished the novels within a week. When I closed the last book, I remember vividly thinking two things.

One : this was the most amazing novel I’ve ever read.

Two : I wanted more than anything in the world to create stories that made people feel the way I was feeling. Overjoyed. Amazed. Hopeful.
My little 12 years heart was bursting with all those exhilarating emotions. All because of a story written by an Oxford University teacher.

I already knew I wanted to be a writer. I learned then what kind of writer I wanted to be.

Fantasy Worlds

Every time I’m trying to write outside the Fantasy realms, the endeavour seems to fail.

The best exemple would be my recent attempts to write a contemporary Christmas rom-com. It was so boring it soon became a chore to put words one after the other.

Something had to be done.

Like… witches?

Once Upon a Time

Twelve days before Christmas (because us, Christmas rom-com novels/movie aficionados, we do enjoyed cozy déjà-vu clichés), an unlikely meeting occur in an unlikely place.

After the meet cute part, my Christmas rom-com story wasn’t going anywhere really.

The characters had no place to grow, to change, to make an actual good story. They were merely waiting for the big kissing finally.

Now, Main Character is going on the « where Christmas magic happens » road.

And writing romantic comedy for adult readers finally feel rights.

Dear fellow writers, it has been a while since I had the privilege of sharing the tra deri dera of my writers life. I thank you from the bottom of my heart to have taken the time to read this little writing-process thing.

I hope you and everyone you hold dear are safe and happy. May all the good words flow your way.

Until next time!

%d blogueueurs aiment cette page :