My writing life began years ago when healing from a fundamentalist religious cult. I write short form pieces in all types of genres because I write what comes through. Often my heart comes through in personal pieces to help me move forward.
The spirit moves in mysterious ways. Take for example romantic love. In youth it comes – flirty – fleeting – furious. We’re often out of our depths. It's a rocky road full of cavernous potholes - falling in, getting out. We may end up in a relationship taboo – married partners,
The Scrabble Challenge, as I call it, is to take every word in the scrabble game and include them in a story. It was hard but fun. As I write I never quite know what a story will be but this one I realize was about a place. I listed
Micro-memoir My brother once said “Keep your hands to yourself.” ...well, sort of. The station wagon jargon, irritating the driver, my poor mother, was the countless screaming: "Stop touching me!" I remember the screeching brakes when she was finally fed up and mother's threats to leave
Flash fiction - a tribute to Barbara Wansor - a mother, grandmother and great grandmother “I write to write is what Nana used to say. And she'd point to Toby and say He's my muse.” Celia said. They laughed at this. Remembering Toby, who was a
My mother's pain was palpable. She lived in a nursing home working on her last few days on earth. Only I didn't know. She didn't know. Her religious faith kept her stuck in the past and in false hopes. This faith led her to
– from the Jehovah's Witnesses In the overall picture it took many years to break free from the mind control that took place at the ripe age of ten years old. First the doubts and uncertainty crept in in my late teens and after two years of marriage in
Our shadow lives quietly, at first, in the background. And as we stuff ourselves into that cultural box, letting go of what doesn't suit society, preparing ourselves for adulthood, conformity, we fill our shadows with more than it can hold. Then one day - crisis and the ego
To write what you feel is to acknowledge a part of yourself that has often been maligned in our culture, in the norm, in the cult fundamentalist religion, where to feel is not allowed. But when your mind tells you that is in the past...you believe it not. For
Love is a funny thing. The love I thought about today is the one we have for fellow humans. How do we express this, and how do we act toward them? I often hear of acts of kindness in my hometown. And I had one after a particularly stressful visit
“To be nobody-but-yourself — in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else — means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight.” e.e. cummings The system is broke - words are as words do they move, clear, pretend, imagine, lift,
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