When I got ready to move back to Vermont after finishing grad school, I knew the one thing I would miss would be the metro park down the street from my apartment. It had become an old and trusted friend, another home, a place to center myself and be. Something about my solitude and comfort…
Shame is one of those words that sounds exactly like what it evokes. Shit. Hopelessness. Assholes. Myths. Embarrassment. Shame is why I didn’t admit to any caring adult in my life…
If someone had said to me that attending a facilitated session called Dance, Draw, Write would overwhelm me with emotion, or that I would rediscover a part of my childhood spirit, I would be extremely skeptical. There I was Sunday morning, the last day of women’s weekend, saddened by the knowledge that in a few…
Note: This post stemmed from a prompt flashback to misery. I’m writing a book and it’s a shitty long look backwards. I mean the writing isn’t shitty, but the looking back certainly is. Memoir seems to be a deliberately-written exploration of a series of miserable flashbacks. Or flashbacks on misery. Flashbacks with misery? Flashback…
I’ve read this in a book. You’ll laugh. It’s the story of a damsel. You’ll know exactly this story as soon as I start simply by the way this story begins. Once upon a time … … in a land [insert some adjective that indicates far, followed by one that suggests foreign and a third…
NOTE: The following post was based off this writing prompt: write a weather report. This is the first post about misguided romance and my unpredictable, somewhat tragic, and darkly humorous love life. There will be more. For now, you can view the description of my memoir (in-progress) to get a sense of what this is…