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Her pleasure in the walk must arise from the exercise and the day, from the view of the last smiles of the year upon the tawny leaves and withered hedges, and from repeating to herself some few of the thousand poetical descriptions extant of autumn–that season of peculiar and inexhaustible influence on the mind of taste and tenderness–that season which has drawn from every poet worthy of being read some attempt at description, or some lines of feeling.

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In Stock


On such a beautiful day, I decided it was time for the new little girls to meet the other little girls.

They loved it! They have been bouncing and jumping and climbing all day! 62 more words


Rejection, Redux

Dear Bitchy Cheerleaders,

I work so hard at my writing, but I just keep getting rejected. Journals, agents, editors, everyone seems to just hate my work. 435 more words


Fiction Like Eyebrows

Dear Tawny Awesome,

I’ve been looking back over the writing I’ve produced in the past ten years…and it seems like it’s changed a lot–possibly even influenced by the work of other writers I’ve read. 628 more words