I have always wanted to write a Christmas Novella, and this year I am determined to. In fact, I hope to write it over the next few weeks. I won’t publish it until next November, though. But I am excited about it and okay with setting my current writing project aside.
The morning light slants in an east window near my chair, highlighting a ruby-colored candy dish, making it gleam a bright pink. How different things appear in bright light. It makes me wonder how I’d look under such circumstances.
It has been awhile since I let my mind wander in the realm of verse. Last night I let my thoughts take me where they would, and although this is probably more prose than free verse poetry, it’s a poetic picture of where I write most of my work. I hope you joy it.
Last year during the month of November I posted daily on Instagram and Facebook about what I was thankful for. This year, I plan to do the same type of virtual gratitude journal. Starting every day with pondering something to give thanks for challenges me but also blesses me so much. Satisfaction, contentment, happiness, and even health can stem from giving thanks and actively counting our blessings.
This year for the first time in over nineteen years, there will be a blue moon on Halloween. A blue moon is more than one full moon in a month, which doesn’t happen frequently. I am celebrating one year in print with my book, Blue Moon, a tale of precious things more rare than a blue moon. I thought it would be fun to offer a giveaway to coincide with the two.
Learning to let go dominates a part of my life, but we all must choose to release things and sometimes people, for various reasons.
When I first started to have issues with disability and a body that wouldn’t cooperate with my demands and reflexes, I let it define me, crush me in a way that nothing else ever had. Until I realized that I was more than what I couldn’t do…
A dry, brown oak leaf swirls in an eddy, little less than three feet wide, in front of the entrance to my home. It scrapes, crackling against the cement. Round and around it goes, dancing in rhythm to the wind chime hanging nearby.
I approach the end of an enormous effort, in November 23rd the last book in my series, By the Light of the Moon, will be released.
How does cradling a hot cup of tea in my hands comfort me? The warmth reminds me of safety, of home.