Gather. Discover. Cultivate.
Right now someone is packing for a research trip to Antarctica. Swimming with dolphins. Having their first dance.
Someone is falling in love on a bridge in Venice. Ziplining off a treetop platform. Spelunking in a cave in near total darkness.
Someone’s life disappears into the shadows of another’s big moment.
When the unit of measure plucked from the shelf, someone always falls short.
Continue reading “The Incredible Shrinking Woman”
for the times we ignore the price tag, may we forgive ourselves
He strides up the steps
in his purple velvet coat,
trailing the welcome stink
of burnt sugar
and rosin,
a gait so light even the oldest boards
hold their breath.
He closes the distance
before you clock his game,
pulls a quarter from behind your ear.
Halfway up the road to the lake, the ground caved in. It was our first summer running the YMCA summer camp in the mountains of Colorado. The new culvert system our regional Y had installed at a cost of $900K had not even had its first birthday.
Continue reading “Joint Force: Notes on Recovery Efforts”
Inside this illness, many of us inhabit two opposing states at once: grateful beyond measure for the knights and godmothers and helpful mice in one’s own tale. And burning with white-hot rage on behalf of afflicted siblings punished without end by the failures of our kings and the ones who permit their reign.
You know how to spot the villains the moment they step onto the page. Briar Rose’s wronged fairy, Jack’s giant, an entire genus of jealous stepmothers who would rather kill their husband’s children than compete for scarce resources. All you have to do is look for the most jealous, greedy, power-hungry characters. The ones whose motives make your skin crawl.
You also know from reading these stories that the villain is a straw man. He draws your attention away from where the real threats lurk. The resident miscreant, no matter how vast his appetite, can’t hold a candle to the more dangerous elements driving the plot.
Continue reading “To Spin a Yarn: Notes on Curse and Rescue”
Brain fog isn’t an official medical diagnosis; rather, it’s a colloquial term for a range of significant, persistent neurocognitive impairments that cause such symptoms as sluggish thinking, difficulty processing information, forgetfulness, and an inability to focus, pay attention, or concentrate. With Long COVID, the exact combination of brain fog symptoms varies from one person to the next.
– Kathy Katella, “Long COVID Brain Fog: What It Is and How to Manage It,” Yale Medicine News
Brainstorm, zero draft, morning pages, freewrite, stream of consciousness.
It has lots of names. I call mine WordSpring.
WordSpring has been my writing process for as long as I’ve been writing. At least 35 years. All I do is set a time or a number of pages and just let them spill out. The words flow free. My only job is to tap the source and, in the immortal words of Natalie Goldberg, “keep the hand moving.”
Occasionally I come to the spring with a theme in mind. Sometimes it’s just an opening and whatever emerges becomes the beginning of a project. More often than I care to admit, it’s all process and no outcome. Just the flow and whatever is called to the surface.
Continue reading “Running Dry: Notes on Writing through Brain Fog”
“Take Nothing for Granted”
Says the sticker inside locker 213.
It’s a sizeable sticker. Bigger than “Deposit Quarter, Take Key.” More insistent than “Be responsible! Always lock your locker!” It hangs there at a cocky angle. Shabby, smug, sure of itself. Shredded at the edges, about five and a half feet off the ground (eye level for some of us). The size just shy of a bumper sticker. An iconoclast. A poseur. Trying to be something different. To proselytize from unlikely, and unavoidable, public soap boxes. Not truck bumpers, no. Instead, utility poles. Bathroom stalls. Park benches. Locker rooms.
Continue reading “Sticker Shock”
Shannon E. Williams 