Like everyone else, I've got drama in my life. I argue with my husband, lose friends, have my feelings hurt. All the usual stuff goes on in my life, like everyone else. I just don't write about it all that often. In the old days, we writers would dump it all out on the page and have time to . . .
It's a Saturday. My To-Do list waits expectantly on my desk, pen nearby and ready to cross out my accomplishments. But really, I feel like doing nothing. Nothing at all. I could do nothing more often, if not for the guilt. We're supposed to DO something, right? Be PRODUCTIVE. Get our chores . . .
Those of us who write opinion--which is often what blogging is--always run the risk of offending someone. A social media friend looks at a post, assumes it's about them and the next thing you know, they're pissed off about it. I have strong opinions and I like to voice them, so that's happened to . . .
These look pretty, don't they? But what if they weigh a ton? Without the ability to roll, they'd be a bitch to carry. What if they're not yours to carry?And what all those stickers represent unresolved issues stuffed inside of them? How did you end up carrying this baggage if it isn't . . .
We writers do shed our lifeblood on the page, it's very true. We suffer over every word, we think we're inadequate, we don't like others to see our work until it's perfect and once in a while we sell a piece that we wish we could rewrite and that plagues us more than it really should. All of this . . .
Today I feel like quoting Jeff Brown, my favorite writer on matters of the heart and soul. Because really, they impact our lives so deeply. Love is a great adventure that some of us are up for but others quake at its power and run as far away as we can. I love how Jeff acknowledges love's power and . . .
He died 9 years ago, leaving a hole in our literary world. And the following suicide note: "Football Season Is Over", it read. "No More Games. No More Bombs. No More Walking. No More Fun. No More Swimming. 67. That is 17 years past 50. 17 more than I needed or wanted. Boring. I am always bitchy. . . .
Sometimes we forget how far we have traveled while we are looking ahead to the next steps. Good to lie down and remember what it took to get this far, all those karmic hoops we had to jump through, all those overcomings. Good to stroke our face with love and to remind ourselves how much courage it . . .
Detachment is a tool. It's not a life. We can only float away and witness our pain body for so long before we have to come back down into the temple and work with what lives inside of us. The grist for our healing and spiritual transformation is not out there- its right here, in our . . .
Yes, I do judge you by your grammar, especially if you're a writer. I can't help it. If you're going to call yourself a writer, the least you can do is learn to use the written word correctly. Or you have no credibility at all. It's not so much the fine details of grammar that bug me as it is the . . .