should notdoes not inhibit my creativity.
“This used to be my boat,” Robert told her as they stood at the gate of the Yacht Club, peering through the cast iron fence. Continue reading “Short story: The mysterious man from the beach”
Yesterday when the menfolk came to visit us girls at my mom’s place, we got into a conversation about online reviews.
Do you read reviews? Continue reading “Online reviews: are they useful, and do you use them?”
Imagine a schedule.
Full, full, full.
Same old. Continue reading “Elusive escape”
Imagine…something. A story. A fantasy. Words that flow out of your head and into your keyboard.
There they sit. Staring back at you. Continue reading “The words will come (or not)”
Imagine, a hangover. But not from cocktails. A heavy head, filled with fog. Thick and soupy, full of words that won’t transmit. Distractions. A fantasy filled with desire and hope. Longing. There is no time, no peace, no focus. But it will come. It has to. The story takes shape, slowly, like the torso of a snowman. Getting bigger, fatter. Until it melts. Again. Sleep eludes. The wifi beckons. It never sleeps. Maybe the words will form at dawn. Maybe not. Continue reading Elusive sleep
She saw him sitting there on a bar stool at the counter, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He was looking at a screen in his hand. He didn’t see her looking at him. Continue reading “The abstract dream”
Revitalized slightly, submitted to Masters Review contest on May 30, 2020
Imagine, a cabin. A single room with a small kitchenette, indoor plumbing, electricity and a fireplace. Continue reading “The writer’s cabin”