Tag Archives: Writer’s Life

The Revenge of the Green

So during my last post I extolled the virtues of green. And not just colors, but things and everything really nice about my favorite color. Alas, as with every good thing, there’s a flip side. An evil flip side, I like gardening, especially when the weather turns nice and the sun shines. My house lies under […]

Shades of Green

Green is one of those colors that you either love or hate. Think about what green can mean. One can be green with envy. You’re rich if you have a lot of green. Energy derived from green sources means its renewable. Vermont has its Green Mountains. The moon was once thought to be made of […]

What Follows

It’s a lovely May day. The sun is shining brightly and the temperature is absolutely perfect. The mountains surrounding the village are covered in a haze of green and red, leaves eager to burst forth. No humidity, a light breeze. People are hanging out on porches, chatting to their neighbors. The ice cream stand is […]

Sense and Normalcy

My workstation as of late I’ve been writing so much lately. Ironically, it’s been all for grants and fundraising. I’m still hacking away at changes in my book, but the funny thing is my language has become entirely too formal. See, when you write a grant, you have to learn this kind of jargon that […]

The Confinement of Safety

I was not doing well at all, in fact, I was on the verge of cracking. Thursday was a convergence of a lot of unfortunately events that nearly broke me. It was my mother’s birthday (she’s been gone for 6 years – seems like yesterday!). After a fitful sleep, I woke up sad, but that […]

Baring Souls

So there was an open mic night the other night. My new job sponsored it. It was meant to encourage anyone who’s written anything to get up there and read it aloud to those who attended. It made for an interesting evening. Whenever you hold events such as these, you attract a group of people […]

The Shadow Self

Look at the above sun in eclipse. Beautiful, isn’t it? Behind that giant black disc of a moon is a glorious star, almost resentful that the moon’s blocking its way. It stretches its light outward, blossom-like, as if it were to say, “you can’t stop me, ya hear?” Sure, the dark moon has its moment, […]