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We had snow last week, a sure sign that November is closing in. As November approaches, so too does the yearly writing challenge known as NaNoWriMo, or National Novel Writing Month. Year autumn writers from around the country attempt to writing a full 50,000 novel in just 30 days. Every year, I attempt some sort…
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There’s so many thoughts I cannot put into words. Sometimes the struggle is in finding an original way to express thoughts already spoken: the happiness of a bright sunflower in the summer, the melancholy of toy in the rain, the butterflies in the stomach and heart in your throat for nerves. We know what to…
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I’m a connoisseur of coffee shops. I’ve issues myself a challenge to write at a new coffee shop every week until I’ve tried every single cafe in the valley. If I attempted this challenge 10 years ago, I would be done in a month. But, Coffee has become surprisingly popular in this Mormon stronghold. Now,…
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Can you capture a person in a handful of stories? Summarize a life in a few anecdotes? If our experiences are the threads that weave our lives, and tell tales turns back wheel of time, Do we continue to exist when the yarn is spun?
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I remember my past like scenes in a movie. As if it all happened to someone else, in a different reality, separate from the one I currently reside in. I say “I” and “me” when recounting the sordid tales, but feels like a lie. Despite all evidence and witnesses that confirm their truth, I cannot…
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In many ways, writing still feels like a need that’s intrinsic to my nature. But, external forces have been removed. Writing is no longer a forced activity rubrics and due dates, but a chosen form of expression.
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In a quiet little town-close enough to the coast to look for seaglass in summer. Is a cozy little house-close enough to the woods to watch the leaves change in fall. With a few good neighbors-close enough to share baked goods and gossip in winter. Who sit around a fire-close enough to imagine the warmth…
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We need Quiet Time. As a society, we hate silence. We play music in the background of coffee shops and grocery stores. We fill “awkward silences” with small talk and mindless chatter. We even go so far as to say that quiet people “have no personality”, or regard them with suspicion because “it’s always the…
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My mind is a bowl of alphabet soup. A mess of mental health diagnoses- reach in and pull out a spoonful. Arrange the letters to guess the imbalance that keeps me in vertigo a single cooling blow and I dive into the bowl.
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It’s a book-shop kind of Sunday. Quiet chatter, and whirling grinders tickle my ears. The smell of coffee and books float through the air with each long, slow breathe. I camp out at a small table with a hot tea latte, a muffin, and my little laptop. The window to my right displays a cool…
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Bringing Mae Flowers 