On Being a Writer

I always harbored romantic notions of what life as a writer would look like: I thought I'd live in a cabin in the mountains. I'd leisurely make coffee each morning, warming my hands on the mug, preparing for another day of brilliance. I'd walk my Irish Setter, Maggie, unleashed along the sun dappled mountain trails,... Continue Reading →

Mattie Sue & Bizby

All said, it probably took an hour for the boat to meander across the glassy lake. A few times she'd tried to use the tree branch as an oar--but that threatened to send her in endless circles. She'd opted to search out constellations instead. Which is why, when she reached the other side of the lake, she was snoring softly. And why she didn't realize she'd drifted aground until she heard her own name.

Less Clearly Defined

In the round mirror marred with the black flecks of age, she saw herself. More accurately, she saw a version of herself. The stoic, bookish librarian version of Eustice had given way to something entirely different. Her long hair framed her face in a wild tangle. The sun making its way into the room lit her wild hair aglow. Her eyes, sooty with mascara and eyeliner, looked to Eustice both exotic and repulsive. She eyed her reflection warily, as if it might suddenly speak unbidden. But they both remained silent.

Tetherball & Sprinklers…And a Black Eye

Percy’s mom was real cool—I mean, other than the fact that she’d given him the name Percy. That was a pretty big goof up. He was always getting into fights over it. But otherwise, she was a real nice mom. She didn’t even get mad when we came skidding into the house, all sweaty, and dropped our stuff by the front door. And she always had popsicles in the freezer. The red ones were my favorite. Which was great because Perc liked purple (yuck.) but hated red. So, there were always plenty of reds left when I came over.

Living with What Is (in Pugs & in Life)

I’ve finally, finally learned that, if I’m struggling, it’s likely because I’m trying to deal with what I wish was, instead of dealing with reality. If strapless dress had been dealing in reality yesterday, I wouldn’t have gotten chased down by a pug.

7 Reasons to Love Seven

When I found out I was (finally) pregnant, I fundamentally misunderstood what was about to happen. I mean, I wanted a KID. What I got was, well, a baby. Turns out, babies aren’t really my thing.

The Same Story

I learned the art of the finely crafted story in Alcoholics Anonymous.  I know that's bizarre. But, look, I am a consumer of stories. And, so, while some folks wanted to get down to brass tacks about the steps they needed to take to get out of this mess they'd gotten themselves into, I was completely taken with the vulnerability of each person's story. The stories are what kept me there. 

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