“Mouth open in a silent scream, like a Hitchcock girl on a muted television. Then comes the folding, the doubling over that forces the air out of her lungs in a woosh. Being tough is no longer the point of this game…”
Not to sound morose or overly dramatic, but there are some moments that it seems I can literally feel myself dying. Of course, we all are dying in a way as we age. But generally, we don’t FEEL it — the body going cell by cell. Oops! There goes another one!
About the 2016 GLBTQ Youth Summit, getting outside to enjoy the weather and returning to my writing practice
I am writing this after just coming home from having a one hour, full body, hot stone massage. This wholly relaxed feeling is so foreign that some warped part of me wants to do battle with the Peaceable Kingdom to return to my high strung, whacko, anxious feeling world.
I was the child who climbed up into the cradle of tree branches with a book, a pen and my journal and observed the world from a safe distance. Maybe it’s time to come down and tell people what I saw.
The brain is still writing. I mean, like right now. The life in the story feels more tangible and real than the present…
My horse accident happened at a time in my life when I was extremely happy. I had never had so much in my life that was good. And I had never had so much to lose. I was terrified.
“T.S Eliot once said, ‘If you aren’t in over your head, how do you know how tall you are?’ We should all feel as if we’re in over our heads when we write; that’s how we know we’re writing about something that really matters. So it takes either courage, self-deception, ignorance, or some of all three, to knowingly put ourselves in this position. It takes an endless supply of hope. Writing anything is ultimately an act of faith and love.” ~ Lee Martin
At January’s Writer’s Salon, Beth Wright from Trio Bookworks spoke with us about the world of publishing. We discussed questions like “What value does publishing bring or you hope it will bring to your work?” and “What does it take away or do you fear it will take away?”
I’ve been obsessively writing for a few weeks. I’ve entered a secret world of words that I can get lost in for hours. Picture some kind of matrix scene where probes are attached to my head and I’m twitching and people are shaking me and yelling, “Maery! Maery! Wake up!”