Back in 2013 I loved to run. I didn’t run prettily, I was like a ungainly colt, flailing elbows and knees thrown to the side, but I ran. I enjoyed the wind through my hair, spurring me n, burgeoning me up. I felt strong, mighty, empowered. I had a pedometer from McDonald’s GoFit Campaign forever […]Read more "Back when I Ran"
When I was young, I wanted to be Gypsy like Esmeralda from the Hunchback of Notre Dame, that lovely Disney movie with the horse that sat on command like a dog. I wanted to travel the world never calling one place home and carrying all I had on my back. I wanted to make friends […]Read more "I Never was a Gypsy"
I am ready to start again. I’m ready to pick up the pen and change the blank page with flowing words. Ready to carve a world in all its fine detail. I will keep my writing half secret. I won’t tell you where I’m at until I’m done. I will complete draft 4 of Anastasia. […]Read more "I’m Ready"
Depression II: September 24, 2016 continued Normally, my downward spirals wind back up. This spiral shows no sign of returning to the heights soon. This cycle has hit me harder than any other previously. It’s as if I spun to the bottom, Smack! I’m flat out, face first buried under an avalanche of emotion […]Read more "The Battle, part 2"
Depression: September 21, 2016 I’m tired. Tired as a horse that pulled the plow then made a mad dash to the doctor and back at the end of the day. I’m tired without doing anything. I cannot speak without slurring and losing the very thought or point I was trying to make. This all […]Read more "The Battle"
It’s the bane of every writer. I stared at the paper and could not put any words on it. I took a drive up into the mountains. Stiff, scared, lost, wandering aimlessly with discontent. The Dreams, Poetry, and stories untold swirling through my brain as I agonized over curves and hills that my car didn’t […]Read more "Writer’s Block"
I’m starving for the trees, yearning for the wind to tease my hair into tangles, sniffing for the mast and earth scent unique to a forest. I want the winding mountain trails and the quiet creeks that go to rushing mountain streams. I seek the peace of the evening broken by hoot owls, coyotes, and […]Read more "I Cannot Write"