Tag Archive: writer

Books. But also, spilt milk

Where to even begin? Let’s start with all the books. All of them. Because that’s what I’ve been doing since I last posted. Reading and reading and reading. In between books, somehow my… Continue reading

Walk to Me.

Down in the Way Down South, the school year is almost over. Not joking. There are like 4 school days left. FOUR. As I like to encourage books and reading and books and… Continue reading

Long weekend: All The Books Ever

A long weekend approaches and I mentally rub my hands together, laugh maniacally and then twirl my mustache. All while standing over the straights and curves of a train track, while a pile… Continue reading

Ghost baby: or how I am not the Boss

I slowly and extremely carefully walked upstairs, hesitating on the landing before the last few steps. I shuddered at the thought of what I’d see there. I knew it was there. I could… Continue reading

Aratus

“Mother. Seriously. Why. WHY.” I muttered under my breath as I stepped over the tree-root cracked pavement It was a whole morning ritual for me. If the blame was deflected, it made it… Continue reading

My life is a {book} party

I’ve read tons of books. Probably close to an actual ton, if I calculated out over the past several decades. I’m not one with discerning taste either. I will read EVERYTHING. Case in… Continue reading

Wherein I fixate on something ridiculous…

Sometimes I can be an extremist. Sort of. Ok, just about the ridiculous. I’m pretty laid-back about politics, the news, excessive use of ‘adorbs’. But get me started on girl shit? Queue picture… Continue reading

The Event.

So a few weeks ago, there was An Event. In my house. On my stairs. Sounds dramatic, right? Well, it was. I almost DIED. (This may be a slight exaggeration) After one of… Continue reading

Focal point

I need to write a book. I just finished a book that made me want to write one of my one. The story was intriguing. The plot left me anticipating the final book.… Continue reading

Small moments

Calm of sorts, Wide wide eyes Sweat, stress, tight. Breathing. My internal mind becomes tightly focused. I pretend. And I am good at it. I bet you didn’t know that I was this… Continue reading

  • Stream of consciousness

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