You’re allowed to be bad at writing. I’ve been writing for 24 years and still feel like I’m learning how to hold the pen properly. Maybe that’s the point.
Tag: writing
The Thirsty Elephant Problem: Am I Selfish?
Paralysis isn’t solidarity. Being Bothered from a place of safety isn’t the same as doing something useful. Anguish isn’t participation. Collapse isn’t virtue.
Permission Over Proof: Cutting Pages, Courting Agents
Small acts of disregard, stacked, become an avalanche. I need permission over proof, to finish editing p.iii, and to get this manuscript in an agent’s hands.
I Did It: Yes to Every Chapter
Turns out finishing doesn’t feel like triumph. It feels like setting something heavy down. I finally finished the first draft, and my body knows it.
Reluctant Scribe: A Job No One Wants You To Do
Every family has a reluctant scribe. If you’re reading this, there’s a chance it’s you. I tried not to be, but my memory’s sticky & my sense of pattern acute.
The Mirror Shows His Face (And It’s Mine)
What if the habits I judged in my dad are the ones I’m building for myself? Writing is my salvation—but could it also be my cave?
Facing Medusa in Memoir: the Memoirist’s Gaze
If I can’t talk to you, at least I can try to see you better. Sometimes, writing is the only way to reach the truth.
Mantra, Mother, Mirror: Happy Mother’s Day
2 poems, 1 heartbeat. One traces the compass Mom slipped beneath my ribs; the other salutes Libbs on her 1st Mother’s Day. Love moves down the line, invincible.
Nóttleysa, reflection without sleep
On nightless days, Memory feasts on my regrets. Nóttleysa weaves a web of every should’ve/could’ve I wear as armor. Follow the silk before the seams split.
Letting Go of the Life I Thought I’d Have
The older we are, the louder that “Shouldn’t I have _ by now?” voice gets. I confront that anxiety on my birthday and find new ways to celebrate myself as I am.