Writing the bridge between us


28 Feb Friend Or Foe? 3 Ways to Tell

It is a war, you know. All of it. Every day of our lives, in every aspect of our lives we are in a battle "to be or not to be" while dodging the "slings and arrows" that fortune brings. From the time we're born fighting for breath to the time we hang up sword and shield and leave this place.
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My beautiful picture

05 Feb What Superman Couldn’t

He carried me, his delicate flower. His sack of sugar…Little Love. I could see further from up there. The tops of things and unreachables. Above the things that hurt… But I learned to walk so he let me—and the driver didn’t see.
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This Raging Light

01 Feb This Raging Light

When I have time to read for fun, I'm so pleased when I finish a book and feel as if the time was well spent. As much as I enjoy YA novels, many leave me unimpressed or with a yawning sense of deja vu. But now and then, one will stand out. This Raging Light, shines.
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29 Jan Bookish Events

Tonight I did a book signing at Barnes and Nobel alongside some friends who are fantastic YA authors: Jennifer Jenkins, Jessica Day George, Sara B. Larson, Bree Despain and Valynne Maetani. Coming up next month is LTUE and the month after that is Teen Author Boot Camp!...

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27 Jan The Time In Between

For years there has been really good buzz about the book, THE TIME IN BETWEEN by Maria Duenas. If you are in the mood for a little heavier read, with historic and social issues, this book will not disappoint. It is a runaway hit in Europe. And now a TV series you can watch on Netflix.
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27 Jan High Rise Spiders

High Rise Spiders No natural enemies so high, The birds don’t even fly up there. They seem to drop out of the sky, And cling where no one else would dare To grow up large upon the glass, All because we fear to fall. Dangling washers only pass, So unmolested still they crawl. Nightmares...

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27 Jan What we leave behind

 Years ago while traveling in Wales, I visited Tintern Abbey. It is one of the most picturesque ruins I've ever explored. Worn stone walls and columns remain standing, with empty gothic windows that stare blindly into the past. The bright green of the grassy floors under...

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25 Jan Under the knife…

Years ago, I was babysitting a friend's little boy and my youngest son wanted to know why we had to watch another child. I told him that his mommy had a doctor appointment.
 My son, said, "Oh." His face looked worried.
"What does a doctor do?" I asked, hoping for an answer like,they help you or make you better.
"They hurt my mouth," he answered with a quiet voice--staring into the the space in front of him.
My son's childhood was fraught with doctor appointments and surgeries. His most recent one at the time had closed his cleft palate. It was painful and followed by weeks of keeping his arms strapped down so he wouldn't touch his mouth. I told him that the doctor had fixed the hole in the roof of his mouth and had helped him. My little boy looked unconvinced. He hates hospitals--they are torture chambers to him.
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25 Jan The Play

Shakespeare said: "All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players: They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts" We do all play different parts at different times...But I don't believe our lives are just "sound and fury signifying nothing" as the Bard went on to say. When you've had your world torn apart-or lost a chunk here or there-life can seem absurd. Irrelevant. But while we're still on the stage the show must go on. If we find meaning and motivation in our roles we can learn our new parts when other characters and props come and go as the scenery changes.
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17 Dec Awake and dreaming

“For I have always been a seeker, a dreamer, and a ponderer on seeking and dreaming...” -H.P. Lovecraft I write fiction. I dream up people and journey with them into places I know and places I have never seen, creating stories for other people to read with the hope that we can journey together and make sense of this collective experience we call Life. When I was little, there was a treehouse in my back yard, at the top of a tall Mulberry tree. I'd climb up there and spend hours alone reading books and daydreaming. There was something about being up high, surrounded by branches and leaves that made life feel magical. I could look out over our yard and neighborhood. Everything that seemed boring from the ground became a story. People went in and out of their homes, playing out the drama of ordinary lives but I could imagine interesting plots and intrigues from my perch above. Playing in the theoretical and imaginary.
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