Writing, Traveling,and Life on the Stage
I’m sitting in my stand. I look just below me and find my morning entertainment, one solitary little chipmunk. The little darling’s winter fluff is coming in well. He sits on a small stone nibbling an acorn. Always en gaurde, his eyes dart side to side while he takes another bite. I take the moment... Continue Reading →
**This is an unedited preview of the first chapter of my upcoming book. Working title: Nighttime Fables Some of Us Adults Need to Read. ** Now, listen here. Rufus was a good dog. He was a very good dog. All of the other dogs thought so. He could catch his tail in only a few... Continue Reading →
When I was a teenager, I said some really dumb things. Some of them didn't really affect anyone, but some of them were completely prejudiced and racist. Some of the terrible things that I said then, I was proud of at the time. The tiny Peter Pan in my head shouting "oh the cleverness of... Continue Reading →
I sat. I sat in a red auditorium seat looking up. Notes were sprawled across my legs and the seats beside me. Our Town would open in a few days and I needed to finish updating my paperwork before I left that night. Orchestrating scene changes was proving to be a nightmare, but my notes were useless in those moments.
Either grant me your fearlessness or grant me your wings. Because never being either lifted or crushed is the most crushing thing I can imagine being listed as a cause of death. “She ended with no end"
If you’ve never watched/read/played Pokemon before, you may not know what a magikarp is. Lucky you. A magikarp is pokemon that looks exactly like what a fish would look like if fish could watch Watership Down.
This week's challenge: Write a bad poem (almost right enough to make you wince) about animal pregnancies. Their eggs gestate in their skin until the babies decide to burst out.
“Rabbit.” That one word is enough to send me into a tailspin of emotion. My body shakes when I hear it. The plot twist shot through my eyes and into my heart, and I was never the same. The first time I read Sherry Garland’s Letters from the Mountain, I was too shaken to cry.... Continue Reading →
Today, I find myself sitting alone on a couch that I didn't buy in a city I barely know, and I love it. Light is pouring through the windows, birds are chirping, and the air conditioner is lending it's faint hum to the music of the day. Meanwhile, my apartment back in Illinois settles without... Continue Reading →
