I used to hate writers who shamelessly self-promoted. I grew weary of their advertising, most of them wrote books I'd never read, had posts I seldom agreed with - made little sense and had little pride.
Now I know their plight.
Writing is a thankless job with the most internal rewards I can ever imagine. Most of us earn meager livings as…Continue
I've missed you all - being here reminds me why we do this - blog. I got Kosher's message about Open Salon closing and ran to my computer, saying "Wow...it's really happening!"
In the time I have been away - we have moved back to America. I lost fifty pounds (it's still off). I wrote another novel - which isn't really as good as my first novel, which is still unpublished. I've returned to college - and…Continue
Jane Austen in her cottage
garden at Chawton.
Painting by Tom Clifford, 2002
Recycling became mandatory in the city I raised my children when they were small. By the time my kids were teens I’d have a hemmorage if I even thought of throwing away an aluminum can.
We moved to South Africa six years ago, where recycling is relatively a new concept and optional. Little more that a noble idea, it is also very inconvenient. One…Continue
As a writer, I am always looking for prompt. They challenge me, demand things inside of me to come out...and dare me to write beyond the prompt.
Today I woke up, jet-lagged and ready to re-writes on my book. I made coffee and headed to the computer.
The jet lag is a result of a two week visit "home" to the States - nine time zones there; nine time zones back. I specifically went to visit my daughter and her daughters- my littlest angel just turned one. I would have to…Continue
Its beads are oversized and held together by a thin, durable elastic which fits neatly over my hand and on my wrist. The color, though, is the story – it’s bright green. The color I always wanted my room painted as a girl—apple green. It’s the color that we eventually painted her room after she heard the story of my own childhood longing.
Years later, the bracelet is a reminder of the season we shared as giggly girls both impulsively painting the walls of her room my dream…Continue