Pixabay image by Brigitte Werner
“You’ve got to do it. Let me find one for you,” Savannah suggested.
Eve rolled her eyes. “I’ve already interviewed five potential bodyguards. They were all Neanderthals.”
Eve stood, all five feet of her in her billowy blue caftan, and faced her agent. She knew Savannah thought her eccentric; but hell, that’s what authors were supposed to be. Continue reading
I wake up groggy this morning because of the allergy meds my doctor prescribed. I’m not sure which is worse, though: trying to sleep with a stuffed-up nose, or feeling a bit nauseous all night from the meds.
So I’m elated when the clock finally turns to 5 a.m. I jump out of bed, remembering “I have yoga today!”
The night-time anti-congestion pill has worn off by the time I’m sipping my first cup of tea, though, and I begin to worry. Continue reading
IF IT DIDN’T SOUND SO CRAZY, I’D WRITE a story about a mermaid and a farmer.
IF IT DIDN’T SOUND SO CRAZY, I’D WRITE an essay on a magical moving pen.
IF IT DIDN’T SOUND SO CRAZY, I’D WRITE a book about a ghost with a moving murmur.
IF IT DIDN’T SOUND SO CRAZY, I’D WRITE a tale about a wolf and a wren who share a den. Continue reading
On holidays, my far-away family makes sure we talk to each other on the phone sometime during the day: my brother calls from Maryland as his wife scurries in the kitchen, my guy’s siblings call at usually a most inconvenient time, like when we’ve just sat down for dessert. But still, we stop, we exclaim Happy Fill in the Blank (Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year, Easter) and we fill up with love.
Which brings me to the phone conversation with my son toward the end of Easter. Continue reading
Even Janine is surprised when the trunk’s contents move with a big thump, but then she supposes that too many of them were placed rather haphazardly. After all, she practically threw them in, racing to her first destination. (see What’s in the Trunk).
The smoke has dissipated. The policeman looks as baffled as a man working on a 1,000 piece puzzle. A puzzle in the shape of books – dozens of books – piled together as if they’ve been kidnapped, or as if they have some nefarious reason for hiding in the trunk of Janine’s car. Continue reading
roughwighting 