15-minute Writing Session

My little sister hung onto her handlebars with their streaming ribbons. "Maddie, it's fine. It's just an old house." A window shutter slapped the siding, making both of us jump. Maddie worried gaze begged me to lead us down the street and closer to home. "It's just the wind." The afternoon sun gradually dimmed to its rosy dusk color. "Sure it is, Howie."

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Trudging

I still have to read through my first draft of Harvest. It's been nearly three months since I finished it but I don't know where to start. The obvious answer is page one, however, I don't know what I'm looking for.

15-Minute Writing Session

The sun beat down on the backyard. Grass, which usually felt soft and soothing under our bare toes, felt scratchy and stiff that day. Maggie picked at the wood pile for the fire ring beside the shed. Her chipped painted nails chipped at the dry logs' bark. I brushed anthills away with the tip of a stick.

Changing Focus

I can't be mad at myself for not doing one passion of mine when I'm doing something in the other, especially when the two cross-over. If you find yourself in a similar situation, remind yourself that you're still doing it, and you can always change focus again when the time and calling require it. 

Why Not Now?

What is it you want out of life? Forty years from now or next week? As I write this, I want a bacon cheeseburger and to perform on a resident Second City stage someday. Both are possible -- one clearly easier to attain.