Reconnection is a meditation, based on my experiences, to help you find connection.
Screen grab of page in the Wayback machine. My first publication is on a now defunct page on the Worldwide Web, seattlewritergrrls.org. The date sometime in 2004. The title: The Oprah Prize. You can read it by following this link. It isn't good writing, but it is writing nonetheless. And published writing at that. I... Continue Reading →
Why do some people feel the need to review past events? I don't know the answer to that question - so I will use this platform to explore why I feel a need to review the last year... This isn't going to be a chronological listing of events - this won't be a rehash of... Continue Reading →
The pause happened before my 45th birthday last year. Thoughts started badgering me: What am I doing with my life? Is this where I want to be? What have I accomplished? Is this all there is for me? I'm almost dead! My older friends laughed and called me "youngster" and "silly." But I know this... Continue Reading →
Diagnosis - Writers Conference Fatigue Contagion - Attending Chuckanut Writers Conference Therapy - Exercise creativity through medium other than writing Chosen therapy - Cook dinner Find ingredients in the house, use creatively. In freezer find main ingredient - Wild boar ravioli (plin) - bought at farmer's market too long ago to remember (< six months... Continue Reading →
The gym I go to is only four blocks away from my home. Those four blocks can be an obstacle to overcome on some mornings, on others, like today, they help me wake up. It is dark at 6:00 a.m. The robins are singing, the crescent moon glows through wisps of clouds, the sweet smell... Continue Reading →
Have you ever thought about what era your life is in or was in? I was asked to consider this in a memoir writing class I am taking this quarter. The instructor promised this would lead us to a story or two even... There was one caveat, the era had to be linked with an... Continue Reading →
My path to becoming a writer began on a mild Chicago winter day in January 1988. But I didn't know it. It was the day my uncle Danny died of AIDS related pneumonia.
I turned 44 a few days ago and I had a re-birthday. Perhaps it is a "turning 44 thing?" 44 is a whimsical number it looks like two chairs standing on their head. The day before the re-birth - my worldview was rearranged - I was not selected for a job, I was not promoted.... Continue Reading →