I'm delving deeper into the writer's life, learning more about the evolving world of online fiction. I'm no longer trying to restrain myself by holding onto my work for editing and revisions. With all the upheaval in the publishing industry, I see no wisdom in starting this adventure using traditional processes designed for a system that is
[caption id="attachment_143" align="alignnone" width="180" caption="Image by Bud Hunt"][/caption] Intuition. Instinct. Trust. Listen. Select. Purchase. Read. Abandon. Experience. Knowledge. Open. Touch. Reject. Escape. Remember. Return. Pain. Fear. Leap. Taste. Reflect. Accept. Release. Inspire. Note: This poem is in response to Bud Hunt's
There were names, a story within a story. I sounded out printed letter pairs searching for friends, curious about strangers. I had favorites, books where my name was printed several times, letters shrinking line by line. There was a time when they would stamp each book. Ka-chunk. Ka-chunk. Ka-chunk. Ten times. There was a limit for children.
Yesterday I made the ninety mile journey to Bellingham to meet a friend. I asked her to pull out her magic wand to change the weather, and as I arrived, the big yellow ball emerged. I had time to walk the beach and capture some photos, finally getting some blues. The spots on the camera may just convince me to learn to edit my photos, but I
Yesterday was absolutely gorgeous and I took my son for a walk. The sentence sounds so simple, but the action is not. I left my job five months ago to be a stay-at-home-mom and have spent those months inside and in pajamas. Just the thought of leaving the house and potentially having to relate to another person face-to-face is enough to keep
I walked by the wall calendar yesterday and remembered to flip the page to the next month. The folk-art print with a white clapboard farmhouse drew me in and I paused for a moment to imagine myself in that place. It is the beginning of my favorite season; anticipation. It isn't quite time to start making plans for spring. Plans make me
I'm a dreamer in my waking hours, and a vivid dreamer when I sleep. I have a series of recurring nightmares, including dreams about forgetting my locker combination or missing the school bus. My dreams are usually quite detailed, and when I recall them, I remember the thoughts going through my head within the dream. Last night was one full
I intented to write a courageous post about how I came to be here, in this Middlespace. However, I discovered this morning, that Barbara Ganley had written it for me. When I read her Betwixt post, I had to smile because her sentiments mirror mine, and I know the two of us are not alone. After two years of total immersion in social media and
