Writing is a solitary pursuit--the imagination guiding the hand moving the pen. I'm pretty old-school, valuing the work of good editors and the revisions process before letting my words go public. But life is short, right? And sometimes, just sometimes, we need to spout off.

About me...

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A writer, mother, teacher, friend, I love books, blizzards and beaches, music from Hildegard von Bingen to the Beatles to Bonnie Raitt to The Brood; I love medieval churches, red wine, creme caramel, and roasted beets, and walking the woods and coastlines of home. 

Friday, January 15, 2010

Court and spark

(Sorry, Joni Mitchell) That's how it feels when a story comes to roost after flitting around too high up to hook the imagination the way it must. That feeling barely contained inside your ribs as the idea gestates. A wild conception. Falling in love. The knowledge, filed away, that it is tenuous, fragile--that, if you don't give in to it, it could as easily miscarry. The story a dark, secret gem your hands and heart and (God willing) brain cells hold protectively. May it implant itself deeply enough to grow. May it thrive enough to be born some day.

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