Andréa Balt is one of the founders of the Write Yourself Alive challenge I've been participating in this past month. Her words often slay all my heart's defenses and cut right to the core of my excuses. I'm so thankful for this challenge. Although I haven't always posted what I've been writing and what's going on with me, I truly feel as if life has been breathed back into my writing, and by
This is where I spent last weekend. Well, not standing in that specific spot with a beer in my hand the entire time, although one of those things might still be true…😁 Ah camping. The great equalizer. Upside: Peace, quiet, communing with nature, hiking, clear rushing creeks and towering trees. Oh, and absolutely no cell service. You couldn't even hum a few bars.
Funny, right? Well. Sort of. I mean, we all go through phases. We grow up. We grow out. We grow through. Today's question asks me if there's one substantial change I'd like to see in my writing at the end of this 30 days. Or even at the end of three months. Swear to God, my first thought was “God, I'd like to stop writing such intense and raw melancholy bullshit.” I've had enough baring
PIPPIN: I didn't think it would end this way. GANDALF: End? No, the journey doesn't end here. Death is just another path, one that we all must take. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it. PIPPIN: What? Gandalf? See what? GANDALF: White shores, and beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise. PIPPIN: Well, that isn't so bad. GANDALF: No. No, it
My favorite book in the Little House series was Farmer Boy. I was so drawn to the simple lives they led, filled with hard but honest work, good food and strong families. I have often longed for a similar simplicity. Sometimes I wonder if the Amish aren't onto something. There's something to be said for embracing a distilled kind of lifestyle that chooses to take the time to craft things by hand, and one that rejects
I’m starting to regret my commitment to post every day about my journey to “write myself alive”. If I’m going to be honest (and that is what I committed to at the beginning of this process) the Write Yourself Alive campaign has taken everything I had to give. I’m just about half way through and really wanting to quit. Day 13 I lived the prompt. I took a walk on the wild side and
We interrupt this 30 day writing challenge to bring you an important message from our sponsor: She's out riding this: In fact “this” is the pictorial illustration of day 13's writing challenge: When was the last time you lost it and let your wild out through a ridiculous, crazy or what seemed like a “stupid” move or reaction? I bought a Harley. Stay tuned. Story to follow…
I’m supposed to talk about myself. Again. This is getting really old. And really freaking personal. But ok, here goes… Today’s prompt wants me to talk about recent encounters with my shadow self, my darker side, the “monsters in my closet”–which I find amusing because I hang out with them on the daily, and honestly, they’re not so scary once you get to know them. It also wants me to imagine an alter ego. What
Today, in honor of “Writing Myself Alive” I'm posting a short excerpt of my novel that is releasing this fall. Finn, Again. is a deeply moving tale of one man’s journey down a path he never intended, searching for a life he never knew he wanted. I hadn’t been to church in quite some time. I wasn’t sure exactly where God and I stood on a lot of things, but I went out of respect for the dead.
Today's assignment: Take a random page from a book and create a blackout poem from it. I chose The Alchemist, by Paulo Coelho, and randomly selected page 131. Here's what I came up with: The boy slept deeply. His heart said that happiness is a moment of creation. “Create it” his heart said. “Treasures go in search of children. Simply let life proceed.” Few follow the path to happiness. Hearts don't like to suffer. I
I always bragged about not Having addictive tendencies And it was true, …then i met you. And i was hooked on the way you breathed, It was like air never existed before. It was like adrenaline when you said my name. The thing about that is you keep seeking that high. So now you're gone and im just an addict with a pen. Cause with ink i can have you right beside me; i can
Moments are lost every day. Like words that escape from our mouths, chased by regret, some things can never be recaptured. Moments alter the fabric of reality, and yet we let them slip by, unnoticed and largely unappreciated. Dwelling on our pasts and longing for an unknown future, we are like the west coast, sitting atop our rocky cliffs, being pounded by a monotony of waves, just waiting for The Big One. If I had
I’ve been reading through old journals. Yes, I keep them, and no, I don’t read them very often. Hardly ever, actually. But after this last move I had a whole bunch of them in a tote bag that I’ve been carting from house to house for the last few years. I wanted to keep them safe. Hidden. Even considered burning them last New Year’s Eve in a mini bonfire I created, but that’s a whole
Day 5: Write the same poem, both with and without punctuation and compare the two. I've always been a fan of letting the words fall on the reader's heart at will, so I think I prefer the unpunctuated. What do you think? Strings unwind without a doubt to hold them in place. Uncurled and unfurled. Twisting in reverse. Pieced together and separated again. Lacing up hearts is hard work with these broken strings.
I realized something very interesting on Day 4 of this challenge. The dig deeper question asked us to list 5 things other than writing that make us feel truly alive. My children were number one on my list, as they have been all their lives, but the other four things on my list were all “sense-usal”. In other words, things that engage my senses, that evoke feeling. Things like yoga, music, dancing… Then these words
Day 3's writing prompt turned out to be a quirky fun scene that was really fun to write. Just over 800 words, the prompt was “Write a short story about yourself if you were psychic and able to read the thoughts of those around you.” I took a little license with the idea and here's what came out: Holy shit he smells amazing! “Excuse me?” The girl behind the counter looked up at me. “Yes?
I’m not sure who I should have been, or if that’s even a thing, providence and destiny being what they are–or aren’t. I know who I was, have a vague idea of who I am, and no idea who I will become. And, I suppose, that’s about how it should be. But every so often I do get to wondering, in a pensively muddled Robert Frost meets Thoreau kind of way, what might have been
Today I have on my metaphorical explorer hat – you know, kind of Indiana Jones style. Like an archeological dig. Only this time the dig is inside my dusty heart. So I’m suddenly finding inspiration everywhere, you know like “when the student is ready the teacher will come” kind of shit. It’s what finally got me to put on the hat. It’s dark down here, but my eyes are adjusting, and let’s face it, there are