Not long ago while I was on the bus, a small group of teenagers sitting in the back were having an exuberant conversation about classes, music, sports, an upcoming party, prom, college, and friends. Normally, these words alone, spoken by African American teenagers about to face the next phase of their lives—-would generate a positive reaction. Yet, as their dialog was consumed with, bitch, niggah, whore, fuck, shit, goddam, motherfucker, asshole, sonofabitch, punk, and many more (you get my point) colorized words—I looked about me and saw the cringe of disgust on so many people. I couldn’t take it anymore. I wasn’t in the mood for an altercation if I spoke, so I exited into the heavy downpour and walked my last two bus stops and 3 more long blocks to my home. Continue reading
I started taking music lessons in the second grade. By the time I was in high school, there were three instruments I knew how to play: flute, clarinet, and the oboe. When mixed with modern and jazz dance lessons, I’d say music was my heart’s beat. Although, I think Mom had another motive. . . keep me busy and way too tired, so I wouldn’t gain membership into our town’s teenage pregnancy club. Fortunate for me, Mom’s plan worked, and I exchanged one life-altering decision for another—music grew inside of me instead of a baby. Continue reading
The creative writing group I belong to had an assignment. We were to use these words: Solitary Rose, No Serviceable Parts, Rain, and Church, and write a story of at least 800 words.
I took a risk and wrote a story in a dialog from a child’s point of view. My peers loved it. It was fun polishing off my voice and reading my story in a dialog quite different from my own. Continue reading
My days are full.
My thoughts are even fuller.
My energy is low.
But THAT’S OKAY.
Somewhere in my adult life, I’ve come to believe goals exist to add purpose and structure. And I’ve whispered, “God, give me strength.” Continue reading
Many things give me story ideas. The obvious is PEOPLE WATCHING.
Listening to dialog, whether it’s in a restaurant, on a bus, or at a coffeehouse—my ears and senses are wide open for the way a person walks, the tone of their voice, their clothes, the topic of conversation, and, of course, the emotions locking into their face. I press play on my imagination to record what I see and hear. Eavesdropping is the best way to find story lines, infuse a character description, or spice up the story’s dialog. Continue reading
There are many female writers who amaze me, not just with their writing, but how wisdom plays a role in who they are, and why they write. These are a few memorable quotes I think apropos for writing from the heart.
“Writing is a job, a talent, but it’s also the place to go in your head. It is the imaginary friend you drink your tea with in the afternoon.” ~~Ann Patchett Continue reading
Last year started and ended the same, happiness landed and is still here.
~~~Instead of making New Years’ resolutions, I give myself a mental tune-up, so I’m prepared for whatever happens during the year. I call this: fine tuning my attitude, or developing more perfection, of a mental habit, for simplicity. Continue reading
As the year closes I can’t name all the people I’ve connected with online. They’ve come from parts of the world I would like one day to visit. Friendship formed is a grand thing. Writers are a breed of people who walk through life with great imaginations. I love reading their bios and am in awe of the accomplishments. All I can say is WOW! Writing is a powerful medium. Continue reading
A task in school was to write down a word and take each letter of that word to describe what the letter meant to you. This quirky game allows me down time from writing, while still sparking examination of me as a writer. I’d like to take the word WRITER and see what I can do with each letter. Continue reading
I’m an organic writer using imagination and instincts. I owe this to my father asking me (ten years old) to recant his two favorite, weekly television programs (over by nine o’clock), when the steel mill put him on the night shift. Continue reading