Poems from my Grandmother 2

One and Only You Every single blade of grass and every flake of snow is just a wee bit different there’s no two alike, you know. From something small, like grains of sand, to the gigantic star, all were made with this in mind: to be just what they are! How foolish then, to imitate, how useless to pretend, since each of us comes from…

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Poems from my Grandmother

There was an envelope found in my Grandmother’s desk after she died that had my name on it. Inside were a few pictures and pieces of paper she wanted me to have. One of the pieces of paper had two poems written on it. I want to share them with you. Myself I have to live with myself, and so I want to be fit…

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Barbie Died of Hypothermia

I began creating fiction long before I ever started writing. When I was a child, I was obsessed with having a Barbie, mostly because my mother was strongly against it. She believed that if I played with Barbies I would grow up to be anorexic. I don’t know how long I begged, but finally she gave in. Owning Barbies was my biggest creative outlet as…

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The Artist

I was on vacation last week and missed writing my Friday article. So it feels doubly important to me that I write one this week.  I know what I want to write about today but I feel overwhelmed by the topic and I can’t seem to come up with a different one. I keep sitting here looking at the screen, my mind going round and…

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Chapter One

Just yesterday I finished my new prologue and I stand on the precipice of chapter one. There’s almost nothing I love more than chapter one of any work I do. By no means am I saying that knowing how to begin a work of fiction is easy. It’s not. Sometimes the knowledge just falls on you, other times it wants to play catch me if…

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