I'm nursing a headache that makes me want to curl up in the dark, in the quiet, because my head is about to explode and I feel like throwing up. I feel like I've been dragged onto a crazy, turbulent, nothing-makes-sense train. Everyone's arguing about everything and nothing of significance. People have loads to say… Continue reading Blinding Blunder
I've been told that my painting process parallels my writing (fiction) process. So, take a look at the stages of my most recent painting. So, won't you please describe what my writing process looks like?
Until a veteran, published author encouraged me relatively recently to do art to improve my writing, I thought doing that stuff was engaging in frivolous activities with spare time I didn't, don't have, and couldn't afford. She insisted that doing art would help. It would refill the creative tank. I'd have more to bring to… Continue reading Filling the Creative Tank
Not seriously silly. Serious silly. *** Today's post is brought to you by my writing muse. Mine's a girl in pigtails, wearing some sort of dress. What it looks like depends on the day. I thought she's eight. But, much has indicated she's closer to six. She has the playful heart of a six year… Continue reading Serious Silly
In the previous post, Who We Were Meant to Be, I talked about how we should be spending the first part of our lives growing, listening, and learning. We undergo changes, kind of like the stages leading up to a butterfly. After undergoing metamorphosis, it's time to figure out who we are. Each of us… Continue reading Being True and Good to Ourselves
What compelled me to pick up watercolor paints and brushes a few years ago was an unforgettable experience at the oral surgeon's office. While the doctor was shoving bone back into place and splinting my teeth, I flashed an image of a butterfly against a bright blue and magenta background. Even after he said he… Continue reading Finding My Artist’s Voice, Being Me
You would have thought I had asked who had stolen the Mona Lisa, by the explosive storms that raged, when I asked a simple, seemingly benign question. Noise pollution - filled with lies, accusations, and deceit - cluttered the air. Nothing of any significance had been stolen. Nothing. Nothing! These attacks were about an empty box… Continue reading Seeking Sweetness in a Storm