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The Benefits of Joining a Writers Group
My blog was featured on Writer’s Path today!
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Excerpt from Latent Infection (Short Story)
The infection in the house’s rickety bones began as a latent virus. Buried in the deepest marrow, the first stirrings were creaks, like a joint popping and settling. Age hid secrets with wrinkles of peeling paint and a history forgotten by a foregone mind. The disease was dismissed as the consequence of being time-worn, the…
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Poetry Tuesday – Always Hope
When doubts and fears are closing in, And I feel I simply cannot win, Let the Lord be the only portion for me, To clear my blind eyes, so I can see, More deeply the plans He has for my life. We are not guaranteed no hardship or strife, But rather than trying to demand…
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Excerpt from Arianna
The sky was vibrant orange and pink over the lake as Marc and I sat on his couch. “You have a million-dollar view,” I said. “I’d like to think it’s priceless.” I turned toward him and smiled. His right arm was draped around me as I sat with my legs pulled up on the cushions.…
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“As long as we can love each other, and remember the feeling of love we had, we can die without ever really going away. All the love you created is still there. All the memories are still there. You live on – in the hearts of everyone you have touched and nurtured while you were…
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Poetry Tuesday – Dual Unity
I spiral inward, Extending outward, Spilling out on to myself And folding back in, Placid, breathing life, Life beyond death, Embraced and embracing, Everywhere and in one place, Forever and a mere moment, Blinking away breath From the mirror, Face-to-face, And knowing beyond earthly wisdom, Finality achieved in an instant And captured and set free.…
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Excerpt from Arianna (WIP)
Friday evening, after closing the book, I went to my familiar place at the vanity and sat. My tattered journal was now full, so I reached for the paper bag that held a new one. On the way home from work, I’d taken a detour to a historical part of one of the western suburbs…
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Why Reading Matters: From a Little Girl Who Hated Reading
The second hand seemed to take an eternity to make one lousy rotation. Tick. The minute hand moved the slightest fraction. A minute is forever to a seven-year-old sitting on the living room couch next to her mother, the simple supposed easy-reader book between them. “Go ahead. Sound it out.” The mom’s words could have…