Oh, to be in a cabin on a mountainside surrounded by woods, staring out at the morning whilst sipping my coffee... I'm as close to that as I can be in Kansas, sitting instead in front of a computer writing as I take my daily dose of caffeine. At least there are mountains painted on my mug. A thought, err musing, crossed my mind this morning as I laid in bed snoozing since I had the leisure for once. It's something I've puzzled over for quite a while now. I know before I kvetched about the ...
Projects
To Write, To Dream
As an aspiring novelist, I've been told that I use my writing to isolate myself from the world, to escape, to hide, etc. etc. While all of those accusations may be true, to whatever degree, as I recently pathetically bemoaned the potential of having to return to working at the office of my "day job" instead of remotely, at home, which I love and prefer and would do (almost) anything to maintain on a permanent basis---I had a thought. Call it an epiphany if you will, but let's at least ...
Echo of the Soul
It's difficult to write when the pen feels heavy, the words heavier. Silence is just easy; lazy apathy. It's been a while, maybe too long of a while, since I let my thoughts, my musings, freely flow like ink on a page. I don't know why I allow so much time to fly, why I let the days pass without acknowledging the friend within myself who wishes to be let out. Perhaps, though, it is the fear, the vulnerability, which keeps her inside. The pain of sharing with only silence as a ...
An Erev Shabbat Story
It’s Erev Shabbat, and I’ve just said goodbye to my husband who left for work, leaving me to watch the Dawn as I drink my tonic of coffee. Soon I’ll be going to the DMV for some much needed name changing...stuff, cleaning our home, get my hands covered in dough kneading challah, cooking dinner, preparing myself — all in anticipation of greeting the Sabbath. Except now as I sit in the stillness, I need to find silence. I need to quiet my soul. It is the month of Elul, a time of ...
Enough
I'm not even sure I should be writing this. I don't necessarily feel qualified to share my experiences, my journey of trying to become a published author. And not just qualified, but appropriate. It feels almost...wrong to share. I'm stalling. It's the vulnerability I dread. Last week, I lost it. No, really. I did. I called my husband while he was at work, sobbing about how I can't write, my manuscript is crap, I don't know what I'm doing, and wondering if I've been chasing a fool's ...
