The morning sun blazed the grass around her transforming the blades a stain-glassed kaleidoscope of gold, umber, and lime
And there the fawn lay her spotted hide her only way to hide from being spotted
If it weren't for the pulsing of her breath and the dark brown of her eye peering back at me peering at her I would have feared her dead
Why have you stopped? that eye accused Will you eat me? Will you bite me? Rip into me? Make me a tiny, morsel-sized snack of me?
I'm only here to admire I whispered But even at the whisper she trembled
I walked away, disturbed by her fragility and vulnerability
But also, my own fears resonated like the key of a piano that, when pressed down --silently waiting-- will echo the pitch once the other one sings (or, in this case, perhaps screams)
Is this not also the early days of any artist? To be tight, wound up, seeking to hide, trembling, petrified full of beauty, warmth --and awful vulnerability-- ready to walk, but also, not ready to venture, not yet?
Will you bite me? Rip into me? How long must I hide?
No, little artist, I whisper hand on chest, cheek on hand I'm just here to admire.
Walk when you're ready. But if you must, still, then hide.
Skipping to the pool
Jumping over the rail
And into the icy water
We were girls
And yet women
Free.
But no more.
What has changed us?
Is it he? Is it I? What has changed you? Where is that spiked-haired girl
Who laughed so easily?
Who pushed down my legs
until my abs burned
who leaped first into the icy pool
who trusted me
with secrets in the whispering dark
I felt strong and wise and important
Confidant and friend.
I was who you needed
Just as much--I needed you.
Yet no more?
Like a shutter drawn across a beam of light
makes the sleeping dreamer doubt the truth of day
I am befuddled
I miss our easy-as-breathing friendship.
Yet I fear--should the shutter draw back
the light will not feel the same.
Can the summer
compete with the color-splashed daffodils
of spring?
Written Sunday, September 20, 2015
Last night as I held
Lauren's baby tucked beneath my chin
little heartbeat pulsed against my chest
my body flew to the sky
Life is here! Life is here.
In these moments between tasks
when you pause for long enough
to hold each other--
Life is here. Life is here.
Today I watched a house finch
balance on the bobbing head
of my eight-foot-high sunflower.
It hopped around, chittering
then flew off.
Like magic, its flock joined it.
a rising of birds.
and my son laughed, delighted
as sun touched his shoulders
We sat together on the damp lawn
And my baby girl sat in the nest of my crisscrossed legs
jumping as if to join the birds
cawing her four-month-old happy sounds
When I picked her up to carry her away
I saw her chubby baby feet
were covered in black soil
I didn't wash it off, that soil,
Because it made me happy
To see it there
My baby girl wants to fly
but her toes are pushing against the soil
in a garden
planted by her mother
in the month she was born.
Life is here. Life is here.
Author’s Note: I wrote this during the summer after my youngest child, a girl, was born. Everything felt so raw, like sunburned shoulders still healing, sensitive to the lightest touch. I struggled to write prose in times like this, but poetry came much easier.
a long time
a silent world
full of sweet memories
why wait, world, for something
always new always unique
when what is here is enough?
I wonder if I can write like this
pulling each word
across the screen
sliding along
pressing down
while inside I morn
a night without him
that is what she faces
time apart to deal with pain
please Lord, bless them
to feel near despite the distance
to feel each others love
despite the world of chaos
please Lord
be with her
Author’s note: I cannot actually remember writing this poem. Yet there is a longing to this poem that is very familiar.
Well, I did it! After four years and 425 hours, first draft of my epic fantasy novel, The Cursed Mage is done. It feels fantastic to have completed a full draft of this novel. Here’s an overview of what it took:
Draft 1.0 – wrote through chapter 12. Jan 2019-Feb 2021. (175 hours)
Draft 1.2 – Quick line edits from group comments, chp. 1-12. August 2019-Jan 2021. (21.75 hours)
Draft 1.3 – Revision of Act 1 from Groups Notes. Feb 2021 – April 2021. (18.5 hours)
Draft 1.4 – First FULL draft, restarted per editorial notes by the lovely Brouge Ramos. May 2021-Nov 2022. (210 hours)
For now, the draft sits at 178,991 words. As you can see, there were a few “false starts” on this project over the past four years. I’m fine with that. However, the slowness of my drafting process is less than ideal.
And I have great hopes that this will not be as difficult as you might suppose. When I started writing this story, I had two little kids at home all day, the eldest being just old enough for preschool–but there was this pesty pandemic that stopped the in-person school from being “a thing”. Writing four years ago was something I had to work hard to make happen. In the last four months, both children have been attending school (it’s magical!), and my writing life has transformed. Because of this, in the last 12 months, I have written about 120k, and in the last nine weeks, I wrote 41,000 words (despite attending an out-of-state wedding a taking time off for Thanksgiving). This gives me hope that the next draft will be substantially quicker.
Here are November’s stats:
November 2022 Writing Report
In November, I aimed to write for 1-2 hours per day while my kids are in school, and I achieved that. Two hours is not a ton of time; as my children get older and more independent I hope to spend more time. But it’s enough to make steady, consistent progress. And for that I’m pleased.
Next month, I will try and write M, T, TH, and F for 2 hours/day before Christmas break begins. As the month has already begun, I’ve moved my novel in
