If you have nothing to write about, you can always write about writing. You can always write about the pen’s shadow across the page, as the sun pours through the window, over your left shoulder, illuminating everything all at once. You can always write about the quiet room, silence … [Read more...]
STRANGERS
We started off as strangers, the five of us. I still remember the first time I noticed the one who sat in the round blue chair. I must confess she scared me a little, not because she was scary, but because she reminded me of the woman I used to work for who made me feel smaller than I already … [Read more...]
WRITING THAT NO ONE WILL SEE
It is quiet here. I look down at my hand, scrawling lazily along the blue lined page. This is writing that no one will see. My hand moves but my eyes and ears skitter anxiously, like forest creatures lost and rooting for something familiar. I do not need a writing prompt, no thank you, … [Read more...]
ON THE ROAD TO WRITING GROUP
Driving through the tunnel in the heavy traffic in the rain I think Why am I doing this? I don’t need to be in a group with other people, I can do this at home, facing the plum tree, the apple that is just beginning to tempt me with its first buds. I have rooms galore at home to write in—rooms … [Read more...]
IN HER SHADOW
I sit in her shadow. She is here still, somewhere, in this room, the room where she put down her words, week after week, poem after poem She used to sit in this very spot, at the end of the couch, the place I nestled so easily into, because it felt warm and seemed to invite … [Read more...]