Inspiration for writing is often memory. As a girl I attended Camp James Weldon Johnson in Raccoon State Park in Pennsylvania. One of my fondest memories is the long nightly walk to Liza’s Tree. Once there, we sat around a blazing campfire while one of the best storytellers in the world told us about Liza,…
Category: Member Posts
Strong Women
Strong Women Strong women play a large part in my historical fiction. I am lucky to have supreme role models in my ancestors and in the women that share my world. They are giants of will and perseverance. They guide me as I create my fiction’s characters. My great-great-great-great grandmother, Rhoda, became a widow in…
. holding nose .
comment, been asked to write? has it all overtaken the urge to say the things you hope, the words you think. one is important as the other. i told him that i do not get angry as expected, try to do my best. told him about the situatiom, why i cannot drink hot chocolate, now.…
. all so very organised .
except when we are not, except when we forget. or we are not notified. there are lists and diaries, notes and reminders, days set aside for certain tasks. it has to be done, when there is only one to do it. yet, oh the shame, the horror if we miss a trick, or lose the…
. the timetable .
is on the front bedroom wall, a reminder of other days, and latin. homework, was a separate issue. seems we will return, see those places. she says it is all changed, so have i . seems like another life, as i stand back. we shall go to the museum. sbm.
. deletions .
more than we can write. erase and unpick the seams. words tarry, waver and leave this place, this room, scuttle back into corners. sweep the house clean, cross the words and know that when the time is right, they will come again, dripping from fingers, folded , torn, photographed in plenty. wondered about misspelling, maybe…
. i may have a knighthood .
possibly not, yet the deed was done, the sword was plastic. raised we engaged in sword, in word play. always the actor he fine tuned the pokes and prods, wounded me a little. apparently i am self healing, did not need to fall and groan so. arise sir grandma to fight another day. Yet i…
. time tells .
come six twenty four, much is done already. words are discussed, will be till evening. one was discarded, as not being used these days, while some misspelt took on other meanings. the work load creates tension, while skin crawls back to back. at six twenty seven, the music ends. sbm.
. among the small things yesterday.
was a larger thing, not world news, happily, not something to chew over. amongst the colours, the gifts, the tiny cup, cracked, collectable, among the people at the friday club is friendship, a bigger thing. although many of us like smaller items, we have grown to know that close friends are a quite very big,…
Write Fright
Write fright, or fear of the blank page, is hard to overcome. The white page on the computer screen seems naked, and my attempts at sentence fragments, much less paragraphs, offer it as much cover as a fig leaf. Maybe I should use a larger font. Try double spacing. More experienced writers offer abundant counsel…
. glass and ashes .
today i write of glass and ashes, inspired before, then swept by other’s moments. witness the cleaning, month passed, in our surprise forgot the soot and dashes, to burnish wax. today, a small task. a small task to help those words look old. ©sbm
.the main thing .
is probably that there is none, maybe. is all a mixture, some feel important, others may seem like minor details, yet part of that whole, that make us, makes a life. a small life maybe, yet some of those things will be remembered. sbm.