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. 

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Outside the box

So the idea is swimming around like a tadpole. Hatched from an egg, a square sort of egg that's a bite-sized chunk of "reality"--whether "reality" is fact, myth or a juicy bit of legend. A snippet of story unknown beyond the neighbourhood, a tiny piece of local lore that's bigger than gossip. That has ripples.
Ripples mimicked by the ones the tadpole creates...a tiny bit of turbulence in a tea-coloured, brackish pond.
Around in circles it travels; the pond is only so big, but its parameters are infinite. A scary thing, but delicious too, as the tadpole grows and grows....

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