It’s worth the work to find the precise word that will create a feeling or describe a situation. Use a thesaurus, use your imagination, scratch your head until it comes to you, but find the right word.
When you feel the story is beginning to pick up rhythm—the characters are shaping up, you can see them, you can hear their voices, and they do things that you haven’t planned, things you couldn’t have imagined—then you know the book is somewhere, and you just have to find it, and bring it, word by word, into this world.
When you tell a story in the kitchen to a friend, it’s full of mistakes and repetitions. It’s good to avoid that in literature, but still, a story should feel like a conversation. It’s not a lecture.
Author: Richard L. Fricks
Writer, observer, and student of presence. After decades as a CPA, attorney, and believer in inherited purpose, I now live a quieter life built around clarity, simplicity, and the freedom to begin again.
I write both nonfiction and fiction:
The Pencil-Driven Life, a memoir and daily practice of awareness, and the Boaz, Alabama novels—character-driven stories rooted in the complexities of ordinary life.
I live on seventy acres we call Oak Hollow, where my wife and I care for seven rescued dogs and build small, intentional spaces that reflect the same philosophy I write about. Oak Hollow Cabins is in the development stage (opening March 1, 2026), and is—now and always—a lived expression of presence: cabins, trails, and quiet places shaped by the land itself.
My background as a Fictionary Certified StoryCoach Editor still informs how I understand story, though I no longer offer coaching. Instead, I share reflections through The Pencil’s Edge and @thepencildrivenlife, exploring what it means to live lightly, honestly, and without a script.
Whether I’m writing, building, or walking the land, my work is rooted in one simple truth:
Life becomes clearer when we stop trying to control the story and start paying attention to the moment we’re in.
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