Monday September 19, 2016
You could do this in the conventional way but you don’t.
You invite a stranger over way after the sun’s gone down. 69 more words
Tags » Unedited
Severing. Cutting the cord. Boundaries. Mother’s milk. Hand on my back. Opening my mouth. Cord snaking out, sticky and thick and unending, an infinite belly coil I keep pulling on, years and years and a recurring dream of not being able to cut it — the more I try, the more it becomes something like glue, impossible and uncooperative, stretching from and gumming up the sharp blade. 448 more words
I tell anyone who calls me one, that I’m not a writer.
I think people who are called writers are those who take writing serious. I only write when my emotions are in sync with my fingers and most of the things I write are left unread for years and this blog is a reflection of my personality. 174 more words
Writing is daunting.
Committing to writing this novel is the most terrifying thing I’ve ever looked at. Even as I write this. Knowing that it’s what I want to do, … 491 more words