When I first started writing, I felt like Jo March up in the garret scribbling furiously–but never showing my words to anyone. When I first started blogging, no one knew about RSS feeds or email subscriptions. I was literally sending my posts out into the nameless void. After a few years virtually offline, I reentered…
Throughout the generations, civilization’s story has been passed on verbally, carved in stone, and scratched in pen and ink. Sometimes it is the layers of earth that uncover the record; sometimes it is within the covers of a book that the story is found. But my generation’s story is being recorded in pixels and in…
Some rules were made to be broken. Especially when it comes to writing prompts and blog link-ups like Five Minute Friday. Each week I participate in a link-up hosted by Lisa-Jo Baker. The idea is to write for five minutes flat about the prompt of the week. But the very idea of writing for only…
There’s a lot of talk these days about being fully present in every situation. Put away the smart phone, just enjoy the moment. Or as Jim Elliot put it (long before cell phones, let alone smart phones): “Wherever you are, be all there.” But I’m not sure if it is possible for writers to ever…
The post ideas come when I can’t write them down. Long drives on curvy roads. Watching little curls bounce in the ocean breeze. Snuggling a little man who asks to be my baby again. I had grand plans of writing thousands of words while we were on vacation. But my fingers didn’t seem to get…
When I write, I bare my heart. I set down my thoughts and my feelings, my fears and my failures. The words may appear in black and white but they are written with tears, sweat, and blood. And then, I press publish. With the click of a button I put my heart out there. Many…
Last Friday, their black and white words came alive when I heard each voice read her own creation aloud. With the sound of her voice, her message took on the full color of life. There was no losing her meaning with those inflections, those choked back tears. At Allume, I hugged women who’d been only…
There are days when I can’t even connect the dots of my own feelings enough to know what I’d say if I had the words. The only phrases I can string together come from sad mad Country songs and I wonder if songwriters are always in a state of emotional conflict. Other days the sun…
Sometimes I open up a new post and start typing but realize I don’t really know what I’m trying to say. So I click the “x” and write another post on another topic, because there are plenty of things I can write without needing to listen. But that blank post? It’s still in my head. …
Sometimes, writing our story is the best way to focus on the good memories. Other times, writing out our story is the only way to process the hard times. Sometimes, our own story hurts so much to write that we need to lose ourselves in another’s story for a while. Sometimes, reading another’s story brings…
I can hear them from my spot at the kitchen sink. All three girls piled on the bed, the oldest telling a story to her cousins, my girls. Eager to join the party of giggles and laughter, the only boy of the party toddles and crawls to the bedroom. My own oldest has been playing…
I sign my name at the bottom of every letter I write. But it still feels a bit strange to put it at the top of the letterhead, as well. I don’t know the color of your house. But I recognize your smile in the comment box. I might not be able to recall your…
The End.
The End.
