Women in My Family: A Legacy of Victory.
I sit down next to your little body and I tell you about your lineage. The line of women you hail from. "You come from a line of warriors," I begin.
Browsing Tag:
writer
The Silver Lining: We See What’s on Paper, but We Don’t See Anybody’s Pain.
I can see people for who they are, past their bad decisions and horrible mistakes. And even after all this pain, I don’t want it any other way.
The Dull Brown Bird Who Knew. {poetry}
"Be the dull brown bird," they say, "let go of your magic." And so you do. Until one day, you find a feather a little different from the rest.
The Inevitable End of Our Love Described in John Mellencamp Lyrics.
I know that one day I will meet someone who loves me truly. Someone who knows how to properly love. That’s the thing about young love: we’re too naive.
My Mother’s Death Made Me a Writer.
If I hadn't had lost my mom, would I be writer today? I don't know the answer to that question, nor do I want to know.
To the Writers Who Make Me Cry.
Do you write to remember -- or forget? Do you write to heal -- or hurt? Do you write to teach -- or learn? Do you write to inspire -- or destroy? Do you write for you -- or me? Because you make me cry. Every damn time. But you must have cried too. I know those words have that effect on me only ...
Minding My Normal: Peaceful, But a Bit of a Job.
My husband and my children do not subscribe to my pages upon pages of thoughts and poetry and observations. They are loving and supportive, and they most likely skim my wordy musings from time to time. I can only imagine that there are minor moments of clarity for them as they read, if they ...
A Writer’s Dilemma: Do We Fear Balance?
When I asked my Ayurvedic practitioner if, once balanced, I would lose the ability to write, she assured me that, on the contrary, I would uncover a deeper story within, that of my true self emerging. That sounds nice to me. But, even if that doesn’t happen, even if I never write another word ...
To Be A Writer.
We want you to sigh in heart-heavy disbelief, especially at the end of the story when the little child dies or the mother returns, too late, much too late, or both of these things happen on the same damn page, in the same damn paragraph, leaving you distraught, welling up, swimming in a river ...
Your Muse Wants You To Really Know Yourself.
To be a writer is to be a lover. You fall in love hard and fast, with the Muse, first and foremost. No other lover gets you the same way, no matter how sweet, how hungry, how satisfying. This is a passionate and lonely life, to be a writer. You wander in and out of light and shadows, and learn ...