Monday, October 3, 2011
I created a list a thousand years ago.
Or so it seems.
Can't really remember why. Something I read perhaps? A spark, an ember of an idea from some brilliant soul.
Whatever the reason, it started and grew and grew some more until the folder which it inhabits is bent and burgeoning with paper guts peaking out from all corners.
My Master List I call it. Snatches of ideas. Words. Phrases. Memories. Colors. Constellations of ideas there and waiting for my imagination to connect the dots, form the pictures.
Write every day, the experts admonish. A novel, a poem, a half remembered dream?
Matters not, they cry, so long as you write. And so I created a list, a thousand lines long.
Or so it seems.
And for a while, yes a long while, I have fodder enough.
Hello! Thanks for stopping by. As you can see, I'm not here right now. I'm spending the summer soaking up some outside time, awa...
Happy Monday! I know, I know, Happy WHAT? Believe me, I've been there. But Monday is a fresh start, right? A new week, time to refre...
Good morning! I hope February has treated you well so far. Thank you for stopping by! Today is the monthly gathering of the Insecure Write...
Whew, a bit late today, aren't I? Today I've celebrated the joy of the mundane. I've been doing a bit around the house. Energ...
Savannah burgeons with trees. Oaks and pines, mimosas. Hibiscus and Oleander, big as trees, wafting in the marsh breeze: one gives sweet t...
Have you ever decided to wash a small army of fabric scraps, freshen them up for a new project, and pull them out to dry and find THIS?...