How reading evokes improved writing (for me)

Every so often I read a story by a writer or author which awakens something inside of me. Usually, it begins right with the first sentence, or paragraph. It’s almost like I can hear the voice of this person while reading the words.

One such story is this one: Waking up from the American Dream

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The cabin question

I saw a cabin like this somewhere on social media a couple of weeks ago.

It was a meme, of sorts. It went something like this (I’m paraphrasing):

This is a basic cabin with food, water and a wood fireplace. There is no tv, no wifi, no phone, no internet. You have food and water and firewood. Can you stay here for one month? If yes you can collect a prize of $100,000.

My initial answer was an immediate HELL YES. 🙂

One month? I have food, water and warmth? Who cares about the internet or tv…

And then, I read the comments on that thread. 😲

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The metaphorical abyss

The week leading up to Christmas had me feeling low and borderline depressed. This is pretty standard for me this time of year, and was augmented by the prevailing lockdown. I tried to keep my head above water but failed. There is a metaphorical abyss in my life that has a life of its own. For one thing, it moves. It follows me around. 😬

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Bloggers who write, and publish books

There are many published and indie authors following my blog. Did you know this? Let me list some of them for you here. Perhaps we can support one another by buying their books.

When I’m not writing or editing, or dealing with puppy shenanigans, I spend time reading books mentioned by my blog followers, readers and commenters. Allow me to share some of my interests:

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Christmas Eve gratefulness

I’m cleaning.

They said they’d get it done before Christmas Eve when I asked them yesterday and the day before and the week before that.

It’s Christmas Eve and it’s not done.

Surprise!

Welcome to life with teens. 🙃

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Life lessons: sketching nude models (part 2)

This post is the second part of a story I recalled while walking down memory lane. It involves a life drawing class with nude models. It may interest you to read part 1 first, and I would highly encourage you to read the comments, as well.

Given the interesting events of the first nude model drawling class, and the subsequent attention from a male student in a dorm, I spent the rest of my week fretting.

Partly I was intrigued about the the philosopher student’s offer to pose nude for me in the name of ‘practicing’ my sketching. But it was weird; he was a few years older, and he had a fiancée I had never even seen in the dorm.

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