I could gush about Kate DiCamillo like a young fan girl. There I said it. She has a knack of hooking me on page one and I slip into her world forgetting mine, the bills, the dog, and am transported back to my youth. A place and time devoid of Kate DiCamillo. For if her books were around when I was a child, I’d of found my best friends in the pages of her works. The Tiger Rising is no different. Well maybe a little. What person is not fascinated by a wild creature, a tiger no less? From the first words we are off and running on an adventure. The characters are real, and while I might have found Sistine or Rob my heroes Continue Reading →
In a recent trip to Five Below I unearthed this little book gem – 400 Writing Prompts by #piccadillyinc and figured I’d share the prompts on Facebook and then put my brainstorming attempts here. 500 Words is the writing goal, but attempt # 1 weighs in at a lean 300. That’s life. Enjoy the rambles. While at the beach you decide to write a message in a bottle. What would it say? Who would you like to find it? Sitting in the sand, my hand digging against broken shells I feel the smoothness of sea glass not quite ripe. Pulling it up I find it is not a broken shard but a bottle sealed shut. Canned air from god knows where hits sky. I stick my Continue Reading →
Writers are in some ways a strange breed. We are for the most part solitary creatures, the introverted wall holders at parties with rich inner worlds to inhabit. We may babble in highly caffeinated mumble speak instead of English and not be able to string together two coherent sentences in our real world conversations. Yet take us to a writing conference and whoa, who is this person? Okay, I’m describing myself but I’m sure there is at least one writer who gets this, feels my words and is secretly nodding their head. If you are that person, and you have not already done so, run, not walk, to your nearest writing conference. It just might change your writing life. Why? Reason # 1 Writers are your Tribe. Continue Reading →
Sometimes I wonder how they connect, those glistening jewels above, creating myth and legend in the night sky. Past from generations, word of mouth, we sit and stare. Each star a beacon, tracing back the years. How many pointed to the heavens, creating beauty with upswept fingers in the air? Whispered words in reverent tones, the stories around campfires told. Or lulled to the rhythm of a rocking boat, just how to navigate. Lost and found, warrior or lover, all search for the constellation they call their own. While remembering the North Star is always there to guide us home.
Responsible, life affirming, love you to the moon and back. You eat your cereal in loud slurping smacks though I can’t name the color of your eyes. Shaggy haired dog, aw shucks kind of man and yet, you lawyer in, pushing, cajoling, somehow seeing the big picture without losing too many details. The closest you get to yard work is staring out the window. Later, always later, there is more paperwork to do. Then you give with all your heart, bleed out willingly though you are blind, a fool. There is more to see than your solitary point of view.