Tag Archives: children’s fiction

Once Spoken


I am filled with the most peculiar of feelings today; emotions that supersede any knowledge I have of words to describe them. Instead, they sit inside of me much like that of a vapory image; like the transparent feeling left within one’s mind after having caught a glimpse of someone they think they know, only to notice upon second glance that they’re gone. Or, like a memory, having faded, and leaving only its essence behind.

Perhaps my soul knows what it is that I’m feeling; my mind merely hasn’t or refuses to put the pieces together. Words are funny that way; once we label something with a word that has been pressed onto paper, the something that was previously without form and left hanging without certainty, now takes shape. It becomes a thing, once described.

Often, I feel, this is why there’s something cathartic about speaking one’s feelings to another. We are forced to pull together words that will later be called upon and referenced in either a positive or negative light.

I wonder if that is why so many of us hasten to label a relationship, as we don’t know if the label would enhance or diminish that which we feel toward the other. Or, more importantly, if it matches the feelings of the other.

Words, words, words – funny little things. Like a gun they have the ability to kill a person; their heart, their hopes, their dreams. But like air, they can also breathe life into someone who no longer has the strength to breathe on their own. Kind words can lift a person to heights they never knew before. Damaging words can plunge us to depths we never knew possible. And of course, there is that which is unspoken. I find those the most exhilarating and unsettling. Like magic, their power rests in the unknown.

I will bring this to a close still unable, or unwilling to put words to what rests on my heart. Instead, I will try to clear my mind, and in doing so focus upon the trees that are busy closing down for the season. I will listen to the birds, who unlike me, have no concerns over what they are saying. And of course, from this ambiguous place, I will write.

Enjoy your weekend; label it well.


Written to the sound of geese heading south for the winter and silence.



For much of my life, I’ve been engaged in battle. The worst, was the battle against myself. One can easily drown in their discontent. Like a violent wave, it can pull them under. But there are those who walk into the deep water; as they do, filling their coat pockets with stones: heavy memories, bitter disappointments, and painful insecurities. Once under, some kick violently to reach the surface; others relinquish the fight. I chose to shed the heavy coat, and in the doing, I shed the stones.

Upon reading my words, or upon hearing me speak, it is known instantly, I do not  bury myself under a coat or shroud of any kind. There is no mask or pretense. Although protective, I live quite exposed; my true self revealed through words, spoken or written. Swimming underwater, I said goodbye to all that weighed me down, and the need to be anything other than me.

My life isn’t quite how I want it to be – but after many battles – I am. And from that vantage point I write; content with myself, both the good and the seemingly bad. Because both, its fair to say, form the buoy.

The opening from my latest novel: Safe People.

Chapter 1

Bertie stood naked. Mimicking her motionless frame, her mind remained unmoving. As the hot water showered over her body, she inhaled the steam, and exhaled tired breath. For the moment, she didn’t think of the past, nor of the future. And after escaping into the gentle spaces of mental inertia, she looked down and wondered what was worse: the scars she wore on the outside, or the ones she tried to hide on the inside. 

Post written to: Walk by Foo Fighters

No Room For Logic


It’s an interesting thing, reading the reviews written about one’s books. For the most part, I can pay no more attention to the good reviews than I can the bad – as both have the potential to sway me. And when it comes to writing, I don’t want any factor contributing to the words I write other than the creative energy that moves my fingers.

When a writer considers the fact that their words will be read, it prevents the words from flowing at their natural pace. The creative mind pulls back while the logical mind steps forward. There are many good uses for my logical mind, but writing isn’t one of them.

One thing though, comes from reading reviews; I am given insight into the minds of others. Even if I don’t like what they say, there is value there, at least from a creative perspective. Some have said that the love expressed in my first novel was spot-on; others have said its unrealistic. A few have said it was cheesy at times. As much of the novel parallels my own life, the feelings expressed are factual. And I can say, the best kind of love is the kind that steps deeply into the pool of unabashed expression, a.k.a cheesiness.

Not everyone though, gets the chance to experience such a love. And when they stumble upon it, as an observer, it strikes against their heart. Most want it, but feel the pain of never having had it, or having lost it. When young, we want only to love deeply, and with abandon. After aging, we become embittered toward that which we can’t seem to obtain; wealth, health, happiness, and love.

The words spoken by lovers of yesteryear were intense to the point of appearing unbelievable if spoken today. Instead, today’s world works hard to mold us into generic beings when it comes to emotions; we keep our feelings guarded. We punch onto a keyboard computer generated letters. No longer do we have the romance of a hand written note. Instead of a face staring at us from across the table, we have one-dimensional pictures by which to identify ourselves. Harsh words are said with ease due to the buffer of anonymity and cyberspace. In a world of full exposure, we are more hidden than ever. We have truly forgotten the art of love, as well as the art of expressing what we feel. What hasn’t changed, is that we feel and want with the same intensity.

We live in a sheltered world. Yet, our hearts, want for the innocence of true love, and the ecstasy of being loved with fervor. It only seems unrealistic when we believe it to be out of the realm of our personal reality. A reality we want, but are too embarrassed to admit.

With that said, I hope for everyone, that before they draw their final breath, they too feel the type of love that shakes them to the core. Because, that’s what happens when the soul falls in love. The soul has no need for logic, nor to temper how it feels.

If we are to dance as if no one is watching – then write as if no one is reading, and love as if you’ll never get hurt.


Written to The Logical Song by Supertramp

Dare I Say…Quirky.


Famed author, John Cheever, dressed in suit and hat, then with everyone else, rode the elevator down to the lobby. Once there, he’d walk down to the basement, strip to his boxers and write.

Favorite of mine, D.H. Lawrence, was known for climbing mulberry trees in the nude; something to do with the long limbs and rough bark stimulating his thoughts. Hemingway often wrote in the nude. In that state, he’d stand, with his typewriter on the table, waist-high before him.

Even when we step beyond mere writing habits, writers seem to set the bar quite high in regard to being the most unusual of people. James Joyce, author of Ulysses, enjoyed the smell of women’s farts, as well as being spanked. Irish poet and playwright, W.B. Yeats had monkey glands inserted into his scrotum; invigorating both his sex life and his creativity. Its true: writers are very peculiar people. Dare I say – quirky.

Although I do not sit with a desk drawer full of rotten apples, as German poet, Schiller did, I do consider myself a bit left of center. To change that would be to change my view of the world, the angle by which I perceive all things. To change my quirkiness would be to change – me, as it’s a nuance that sits at my core. It’s a systematic condition, but one that plays a large part in producing all of my varying colors. I don’t mind this. And why should I? To do so would be to take myself too seriously. Nothing sinks one’s ship faster than taking themselves too seriously. As I sail from point to point, as I write and move along with life, I do so with unabashed pride in the peculiarity that is me.

I do not see these things as faults. And when one does, it’s a marker of how they view themselves, in addition to how they view life: critically. Just as I marvel at the quirky, odd-shaped, two-headed tomato, I also stare in awe at the flower who’s petals aren’t colored like the rest. The best things in life are those that allow themselves to simply – be. Never curtailing to popular opinion. Never cowering under conformity. The smartest amongst us know: popular opinion changes like the wind. So let it change. And conform only when doing so suits you. As for me, I don’t want to conform. As there is no box, large enough to keep me.

Off I go now, to climb a mulberry tree.


Written to: Oh Love by Green Day

What The ….?


During a physical interlude once, a man who shall remain nameless, ran his tongue brutishly between my upper lip and gums. This was not a delicate movement. It was not a gentle glide. More like a horse rooting for a hidden sugar cube. The act of which quickly replaced any amorous ideas I had, with the thought: What the …?

Granted, everyone likes different things. And this surely was not the worst of the worst. However, I found it profoundly non-stimulating, to say the least. Heaven forbid he had stumbled upon a crumb or popcorn husk wedged up in there. As a quasi-germaphobe, I tend to be a rather squeaky clean gal. But even after the most forceful of swishing, certain foods are reluctant to de-wedge themselves. Furthermore, never once have I witnessed a love scene wherein the woman’s upper lip was pushed outward as if she were receiving a thorough dental cleaning, all the while a thick tongue slithered along her gum line.

Perhaps this crazy-tongued fella had a funky dental fetish. I don’t know. I never asked. But that’s one of those surprises one hates to discover well after having signed a marital contract. Which was when this particular discovery was made by me. Please know the deflating sexual discoveries kept trickling in, long after. I’m far from a critical lover. But I do cringe at the memories.

I can’t stress enough the importance of trying to unearth such discoveries early on, preferably very early on. But such was not my case. And like a lot of bedroom experiences gone awry, I did what everyone does – block it out and try never to think of it again. Until today, when I truly wanted and needed to laugh. Which I can do as these discoveries are no longer a part of my  life.

No one holds a crystal ball that displays their future. Some say, having such would take all the fun out of life. For the most part I agree. Bearing in mind that I’ve had a few surprises come my way that would’ve been a whole lot easier had I known they were heading in my direction. Regardless, little surprises, both good and bad, line the path we walk in life. There’s no way to discover now what sits beyond our sight, nestled somewhere down the road. The best we can do is explore what we want to explore in its entirety while we walk. Life is about living – not holding back. There will be plenty of time for containment once we’ve passed on, and discover such a thing no longer exists. So as we walk on, I say we do so sampling and discovering all that we can. Hopefully, we’ll stumble upon some good surprises along the way.


Written while laughing, and listening to: Mountain Sound by Of Monsters & Men.

Fully Expressed

It’s that time again, when the afternoon sun lingers in the sky lazily as if reflecting upon the busier days of summer. Its autumn. My favorite time of the year.

Like Spring, Autumn reminds us of the cyclical nature by which we all live. The very world around us forces us to bear witness to the miracle that is life and death. The vibrant birth of all things colorful and green, now entering its final days. The circle of life that is nature.

As the leaves shift in color, a bit of melancholy fills the air; due to the visual reminder that all things change. All things, good and bad, must come to an end. Only the hand of God would signal the shift from life to dormancy with such brilliancy and beauty.

Nature never intends for things not to change. Change is all nature knows. Change is all nature does. The very cycle that is life, hinges upon change. The smell of the air changes. As if from long days baking, the earth emits a tired, yet beautiful perfume. The wind blows as if to remind us that something breathes beyond our view; something colder, something harsher. And the sun, when making its appearance, does so with little restraint. Instead it reveals its heat and magnificence with unabashed confidence. Nature, while alive, never forgets to live.

Whatever this divine source is that made all things, did so knowing there’s more to life than utilitarian function. Life is an expression. There’s a woman I know, who’s gentle disposition and delicate face always struck me much like that of a perfect rose. Both inward and outward, she was lovely. A when young, I wished to be more like her.  Nature never wishes for anything beyond what it is. From the moment it emerges, it lives in full expression. Therefore, when a tree ends its cycle it does so knowing it has lived, and it has lived well. This gentle woman, whom I’ve mentioned, passed away last night. And as I sit here, with my days steadily unfurling beneath me, my heart hurts and my mind wonders. Her soul ended the life cycle, knowing it had done all it had intended. Did her mind know this as well? I will never know. Like the trees that turn color to remind us that all things change, and that all things must come to an end – I will look upon her passing as a reminder. We can’t control change. We can no sooner control nature’s cycle than we can control the positioning of the stars. But we can be in harmony with change. And while doing so, live a life that is unabashed and fully expressed.

In memory of the girl with porcelain skin, and Farrah Fawcett hair for whom I wanted so much to be like. Your gentle spirit, and easy smile, will be missed.


Written to, Symptoms by Atlas Genius

Not Always Pretty


Its much easier to watch a potter mold and spin a vase than to thrust our own hands into the clay. Just as its easier to observe life, rather than partake in, and of life. Doing so gets messy at times. I don’t like messy – most people don’t.

Unfortunately, life requires of us to get our hands dirty.  When it is required of me however, I do so with deliberate movements and clear intent. And when the clay begins to flop wildly as it spins on the table, my gentleness is forced to step aside. As its obvious the clay requires a stronger hand.

For as painfully compassionate as I am, I am not passive. As kind as I am towards others, their actions never go unobserved. When one’s actions take a maladjusted turn, I have to throw onto the table not only the clay, but my feelings as well. Once at that point, my back is no longer yielding.

When someone unleashes words of bitterness, often it has more to do with how they view themselves than the person toward whom their words are directed. Knowing this, I try to approach the situation with flexible allowance and love – to an extent. Love is a gift we give another, without thought of return. It’s not a commodity. Our compassion, when shown, should have little conditions. This being the manner in which I love those closest to me.

But there are moments when extending love for another, the love we have for ourselves, becomes compromised. That’s when things get exceptionally dirty. When that happens we have to make a choice. For me to love another, it begins by loving myself. This is not a selfish belief. Quite the contrary. It is the foundation from which I treat others. I would never treat another in a manner that would harm myself if done to me. How something would make me feel is the gauge by which I measure my own actions. And there is no excuse, no justifiable cause that would make it acceptable for me to mistreat another. And I sure as hell won’t accept it, if done to me. As the saying goes: Do unto others, as you would have them do to you. This keeps in check how I treat others, but is also keeps in check how I allow others to treat me.

So as much as it may seem easier to let the clay spin out of control. It’s best to stop the wheel; glide the taunt string under its surface; releasing it from the table, and start again.  Such is true with people. Such is true with life.


This post was written to: The Keepers by Santigold 

Man Cake


In need of the latest, hippest word used to describe a handsome man, I browsed around at UrbanDictionary.com for awhile. Having read a few entries, I can now say that my mind is the proud new owner of a few images I wish I could disown. However, I did find the term: Man Cake.

My blog posts are personal; intimate portrayals of what lives in my heart and mind. This is the first entry however, where I reached out to friends and colleagues. Quite simply, I wanted to know: what a woman wants most in a man. Their answers bolstered my belief in what rests behind the eyes and within the heart of a quality woman.

Thus far, not one physical, nor external, attribute has been mentioned. No large gender parts. No hefty bank accounts. No bulging muscles. No sports cars. No Armani suits, and no French accents. The votes are in: women want kindness and honesty.

When a woman knows herself – she then knows what she wants in a man. The more she allows her depth to rise to the surface, she is drawn to equal depth in a man. To the man with slick hair, and flexed muscles – you may indeed land a woman. I question, however, the quality of the woman you’ll land. It seems superficiality attracts superficiality. Whereas, depth and quality gravitate toward depth and quality. Like wine to an entrée – it’s all in the pairing.

Good women tend to want a man who flies below the radar. His strength solid, but not flaunted. His mind keen, but with no desire to force his intellect upon others. His compassion genuine. His humanity touching beyond those closest to him. Like good lighting, humility and humor always make a man more attractive in a woman’s eyes. As does honesty and integrity. Women don’t want a man who clamors for the spotlight. Instead, they’re drawn to a man who’s content letting it shine upon others.

Men probably cringe to hear it, but women like a man that’s as strong as he is tender. There’s a primal need within every good woman to have a man that can span these two extremes. Men can’t fault women for wanting that, anymore than women can fault men for wanting a woman who’ll imbue into his life nurturing gentleness, yet unleash upon him her passions in the bedroom. We all have a reason for wanting what we want. With our desires deep and spanning, we want someone to fall into line with those desires; in the doing, we find balance.

I tend to like a good Pinot Noir regardless of my entrée. Something about the mix, suites me. When it comes to the man in my life, the same proves true. We all have individual tastes to satisfy. When I want to nibble upon an ear, it needs to be connected to a very clever mind. When I want to be held, the arms that hold me need to be genuine and sincere. And when I want to hear someone’s laughter, it will be the voice of one that sees life with the same twisted view. It takes a long time to discover what one wants. It’s all acceptable – our wants and likes – just pair it well.


For those who are curious, this blog was written to: The Pit by Silverspun Pickups

And…How Does That Make You Feel?


It’s a statement that’s taken on comedic connotations. However, as statements go, there’s none that carry more meaning as it relates to one’s life, than: how does that make you feel?

The mind, both the conscious and the subconscious, controls everything having to do with our personal being. The you that is you; the me that is me; all controlled and dictated by the mind. And when it comes to this inner aspect of our lives, feelings, work much like that of a rudder on a ship. Not only do our feelings stir us, and bring us to life; they also steer us, and move us in different directions.

We do nothing, without the purpose of producing a certain feeling. Oddly enough, we do many things knowing full well it’ll bring about negative feelings. But if we believe there’s something useful in the feeling, we continue on. For the most part, we always move in the direction of that which we believe will make us feel good. Humans tend to enjoy feeling good. Pleasure is an essential nutrient to life.

We’d put our hand directly in the flames if not for the fact that it feels horrific to do so. Pain is just as important as pleasure; it tells us what to avoid or if something has gone wrong. One is a green light, one is a red. We need both. Within every experience, bar none, rests both extremes: pleasure and pain. When a kiss goes awry, the need to escape it, is darn near painful. When a kiss is sweet, the pleasure experienced draws the mouth back for a second taste. When one over indulges in a meal, the body painfully rebukes such gluttony. When one is hungry, savoring slowly the meal before them, the taste buds come alive with pleasure.

For many, they wake with pain already resting in their heart and mind before even having stepped into their day. For years, having ignored or downplayed their feelings, they’re now inundated with a life absent of all pleasure; one that is painful to the core. But when moving in the direction of our choosing, pleasure rests in the heart; the mind comes alive. Even during the most uncertain moments – we feel good.

The next time life presents a situation, one in which your feelings are mounting. Relax upon the dark leather sofa of your inner therapist and listen to the voice that asks: how does that make you feel? More important than the answer, is to exam why. Because it’s often within the why that we learn what we need to learn about ourselves.


By Default


There are a few angles from which to view life. One, is of an omnipotent being that throws both good and bad circumstances our way. Another, is that life is a school wherein we’re constantly tested. I don’t believe either of those.

I believe life is a place where good and bad things happen regardless of us being here or not. It’s not personal. Things happen, and not necessarily to teach us, or to prepare us for anything. These things are simply inherent to this particular kind of world.

I do feel though, that we’re here with a purpose, and if allowed, we can work in connection with that ever-present, omnipotent force. We’re either in harmony with it, or disharmony; living actively or by default. Like any other device, we can operate with the pre-set, default setting blinking repetitively, or we can fine tune these lives of ours. Many haven’t a clue of the choices given. Many never stop to change the settings in their lives. They live in a life that’s flashing 12:00am regardless of the time. Unlike a digital alarm clock, I don’t feel we can manipulate life down to the minute, unfortunately. But we can surely set things into motion. Instead of being passive participants we can give our life direction.

When something bad happens, people often believe God is against them; punishing them. I can’t say I know why bad things happen other than, it’s all part of living in a contrasting world. Without the bad, we never fully appreciate the good. Without hunger we never truly grasp the magnificence of being satiated. Without having lived with the wrong partner, we never understand the beauty of living with right partner. This world seems to be a place that offers a buffet of contrast. We pick and choose. But when we choose something and discover it was a horrific choice – don’t blame anyone, including God or yourself. Instead, start the process of choosing something different. Many of us begin this journey with only a vague concept of what we want and what we hope to accomplish. It’s only through this continual exposure to contrast that we become skilled at fine tuning our life.

We start out knowing only that we are hungry. It isn’t until sampling food that we discover what we’re hungry for. Sometimes all we know is that we’re lonely. It isn’t until having had the company of another that we discover loneliness has little to do with a partner and everything to do with ourselves. Then, and only then, can find a partner that adds to an already fulfilled life.

Life allows us that; it allows us continual exposure to what we don’t want so that we know what we do want. Change can be scary; no doubt about it. But that’s the art of fine tuning.