I come to Fox Island to meditate, to reflect, to gaze across the sea until the hypnotic sound and motion of sea and wind and crashing wave become a lyric in the song of the universe. The worldly presence of the granite beneath my bottom, the salt air, and the pungent odor of decaying sea-wrack give way to the etheriality of thought and I wander … Continue reading Rebirth
Reblogged from Anna Dobritt – Author Time to Write and Word Count No matter your mood, you need to keep those creative juices flowing. Like exercise is good for the body, writing every day is an exercise for your mind. This means you need to sit at the keyboard or pick up a pen and put something down. Set a goal […] via Time to … Continue reading Time to Write and Word Count, by Anna Dobritt — Author
Myth. Time is a myth. There is no time. When I’m with you Time stands still. Time with you is timeless. But how to communicate The absence of time, The fact of us? I. You. We. One. You are my life, My forever, My sun. I am your moon. You hold me in your orbit. You are my Center. My Universe. My Infinity. You are … Continue reading Your Breath Revive Me
1984 came and left; people wondered at the commotion. As it turned out, 1984 was only a prophecy of the brave new world to come, an inferno that we’re entering now. We wanted a republic, but we’ve built an animal farm ruled by self-righteous pickpockets in a world where the temperature creeps ever closer to Fahrenheit 451, a degree of oppression not yet witnessed in … Continue reading 1984 Redux
I feel so much satisfaction watching the word count grow in the little story flowing from my pen. This joyful enterprise, this crafting of a universe built from memories of a lifetime. This imaginary world I have peopled with those I’ve grown up with, played, schooled, worshiped, worked, and served with. Decorated with scenes that have thrilled my eyes and my mind and lifted my … Continue reading My Little Story
I knew you had something on your mind When you had nothing much to say; When you spoke I could feel the worry, You nearly lost your way; I read the breath between your words For what I hoped I wouldn’t find; There’s always something left unsaid When we’re trying not to be unkind. I searched the places in your head Where you run from … Continue reading The Breath Between Her Words
It’s that time of year!. Originally posted July 6th, 2014 The leaf from a tree, Brings joy to my heart, Vibrant green, With points like a star, It hangs from the limb, waving at me, O, pretty leaf, what do you see? So live your life like a leaf, Just hangin’ around, And when your time comes, Just leap for the ground, A flying leap, brave and … Continue reading Live Your Life Like A Leaf
An attempt at light, airy lyrics. Hum it to any tune you please, then let me know if it makes you smile 🙂 I was passing by O’Grady’s When you saw me in your glass You smiled without turning And I skipped a little dance You pretended not to notice But you still laughed anyway And I made myself a promise To pass there every … Continue reading My Better Half
In the middle of the beginning of the days of my youth I found you In the moments of the hours of my days when time didn’t matter You took me In the space between the time when caught breath was a whisper I came alive Just a sigh Just a cry Just a why Is all I have of you Nothing mattered then for … Continue reading When Breath Was a Whisper
Your heart is a sheet of cold, thin ice; Spider cracks zigzag among open veins; Eggshells scatter before my footsteps; On my toes, I step between the cracks and crush the eggshells with my heels. I peel away onionskin layers of you; Vaporous particles explode into my eyes; They stick to fingers and leave them numb; With steel razor taut in my fist, I scrape … Continue reading Mornings, A Halloween Tale
The rain is come, the day is drear, I must be dreaming of you dear; It’s days like this, I treasure most, Floating echoes of my restless host. When we met, I found my muse, Sheltered by whispered I love you’s; Shrinking from, the spilling clouds, I pulled you from the phobic crowds. Purposeless, and aimless thought, In my arms your love is caught; Your … Continue reading My Restless Muse
Admit it, you love to edit, don’t you? I can see you now as you read through your printed manuscript, coffee cup in one hand, yummy croissant in the other, eyes whizzing left to right as you enter the world of magic you pulled from your storyteller’s mind. Raindrops catch your attention as they patter against the window and merge into a sheet of water … Continue reading On Editing
She’s the girl with the curls, And a face with a sneer on her lips, And when she comes near, You tremble in fear Of the threat in the swing of her hips. She’s the fun in the sun, With trouble in the song on her tongue, And when she comes along, You feel so wrong, When you notice how pretty and young. She’s that … Continue reading She’s that Girl
A Pride of Lions; a Gaggle of Geese; A Query of Writers; A Rejection of Agents. I really should be writing 🙂 Continue reading Names for Things
Well, I pitched to five agents during the SavvyAuthors September Pitch Fest. All five shot me down. Between them, they must have received over a thousand pitches. Some writers pitched to all of the agents (there were publishing house editors too, but I didn’t pitch to them). Out of the ninety requests from those agents for full or partial manuscripts, I was not one of … Continue reading Practiced, Pitched, Punched
Critique this! Does this query pitch pique your interest? “Crippled with grief after his fiancée’s death, Tom Nelson shuns love lest he betray Susanna’s memory. When he meets Aida, he finds love again, but will Susanna let him go?” Continue reading Critique My Pitch: A Wished-For Love
Maine Street, and the town gazebo sits empty in the dark; The tower of the old parish church rises like my heart Above the ancient pines that line the lone road home; The college, whose yellow light-filled windows reflect The yearning of the young for the wisdom of the old, is quiet; Bowdoin Chapel tolls the hour and my watch softly chimes The same as … Continue reading The Gazebo
Swish, swish, swish, her tail sweeps the air, Shining eyes, she crouches there. Arcing high, the ball flies up, Leaping now, my flying pup. She takes the ball, prances ‘round, Twinkle toes, not earthbound. Come here, girl! but, oh, not she, Away, away, chase after me! Faster, farther, prancing still, She smiles at me, such a pill. Lets me near, then lies down, I come … Continue reading Mai Lee
I thought until death do us part meant one of us would cry At the loneliness we’d feel when our lover had just died; I never thought it meant that the love we shared might fly, That you’d run away from me instead of walking by my side. I thought that love and marriage meant forever and a day; How could I have known your … Continue reading Love Lost
Reposted from 2015 My mind is soothed by the sight of the sea, and the sound of her waves breaking upon the ancient, granite bones of this world. My skin is caressed with a blanket of fragrance laid upon me by the smells of the sea. The call of the deep tugs at my heart and beckons, “Listen to my voice.” I am terrified by … Continue reading The Sea and Me
Playfully, we spoke the words, “until death do us part,” She laughed, and her smile tugged at my heart, Will you love me in sickness and in health, she asked, Yes, my love, will you love me in poverty and in wealth? Of course, she said, her head tilted to one side, I’ll love you, you know, beyond the end of time; She turned her … Continue reading Susanna XI
I lose hope when I spend too much time reading the news. I despair of mankind living in peace and harmony. I despair of the world we are leaving our grandchildren. I gain hope and confidence when I turn off the news. I walk outside and see a world bigger than our differences. My spirits lift and soar when I walk among people and the … Continue reading Apples
This is the Pitch I submitted to two agents yesterday: Pitch: Decades after their tragic deaths, two women haunt the lives of three men separated by grief and a hasty adoption for twenty-three years. Two of the men come to terms with their loss and find love again. Sam will mourn forever. I’m going to poke my eyes out now…. Continue reading Pitch: A Wished-For Love
I’m not a fan of monopolies no matter how convenient they make shopping, or how cheap they can sell products. Progress is good in many ways, but the easier it is to do things from a computer – shopping – the less time we spend interacting with others. It’s the same dilemma we find ourselves facing with cell phones. The computer and cell phone are … Continue reading Convenience
I can’t count the times I’ve been asked by a writer to provide “an honest” critique or review of his work. Invariably, I think to myself, “What? I’m going to give you a dishonest review? I’m going to lie to you?” I think what they mean is they don’t want me to spare their feelings. I never ask for an honest critique. Last month, I … Continue reading A Wished-For Love, Second Beta Review
The last three weeks have been a pleasant vacation from writing and posting. The break presented an opportunity to catch up on chores and reading, both of which suffered from lack of attention. I needed to step away and take a breather after finishing the novel that consumed so much of my life since first putting pen to paper in December 2013. “A Wished-For Love” … Continue reading A Wished-For Love: First Beta Review
I read constantly that editing is hard. No. Editing is not hard. Writing is hard. Editing is tedious. Excruciatingly boring. Gut-wrenchingly, the-sun-is-shining-for-the-first-time-in-weeks, birds-are-singing, optimism-is-everywhere, but-I’m-stuck-behind-this-desk-in-pursuit-of-my-laudable-goal, boring. Oh, look; Gone With the Wind is on TV! Oh, oh, oh! A Gilligan’s Island rerun marathon! Continue reading Editing — A Wished-For Love
I apologize if the new title for my writing posts makes you hungry. I cannot stop thinking of Rice Crispies; does any cereal hold more sugar? As a ten-year old boy, I reached for unsweetened cereal in the cupboard. I wanted to choose the amount of sugar on my own. Some cereals tantalized my tongue with lots of added sugar, while others were delicious with … Continue reading Write Crisp – Word Choice
So, there I was, reading calmkate’s response to today’s Daily Prompt, Crisp, and, as is my wont, pondering ways to submit an outside-the-box response of my own. That led to a headache which made me stop thinking and make some tea (Stash brand Licorice Spice, BTW). Two tea bag tea, too (yeah, I know, but I drink tea out of a huge coffee mug). Writing … Continue reading Write Tight? Or Write Crisp?
Writer’s dilemmas are a part of writing. They occur with every well-thought out novel. If you don’t find yourself boxed in somehow, then you probably have not written a plot complex enough to grab the reader and hold her attention. Plots should resemble life in its complexities. They need twists and turns, unexpected outcomes, surprises, and falls from cliffs with protagonists clinging by fingertips to … Continue reading Write Tight
Golden fields stretch far, Rolling hills studded with rocky ledge; My fingers brush the fibrous Beards of breezy strands Tapping at my legs; Behind me the reaper Harvests ripened grains. I move apace, steady on For looming edge. Continue reading Grains
This is so beautifully written that my hand turned warm from the touch of Kris’s heart. If I am ever in need of loving care at the end of my days, I hope someone like Kris is there to see me through. I’m tired today. Tonight. Whatever. It is 4 am and I just woke mum to empty her waste bag. I stared at … Continue reading Ribbons, by Kris
I grip it with my toes That phantasmagoric line between living and dying Behind rise the hairs on my neck Ahead my heart pumps furiously To live is to die Yet I am not finished living I grip the precipice with my toes When I stop living I will die. Precipice Continue reading Precipice
Chapter Twenty-two from “A Wished-For Love.” 2,929 words. Tom looked up to Sasi’s balcony on the top floor directly over the pool. He wasn’t surprised to see her waving and calling to him. He returned her wave and walked faster. When he looked again she had gone. He pushed through the revolving door and strode through the lobby. The clerk called out but Tom ignored … Continue reading Tom and Sasi
They bury their dead in vaults. Long rows of casket-sized holes stacked six bodies high. Mourners shuffle along behind the men struggling beneath the weight, the dead weight, inside the casket. Mostly, they do. Her casket was featherlight, the body inside so nearly weightless it seemed heartless to call it dead weight. The men carrying her body stood ramrod straight, as men are wont to do … Continue reading The Wedding Band
Tom had the cavernous C-130 cargo bay to himself. He wrapped a wool US-issue blanket around his shoulders and stretched out on the webbed jump seats to read. The low hum of the turboprop engines lulled him to sleep after a few paragraphs. He woke to the loadmaster shaking his shoulder. “Hey.” The crewman raised his voice over the sound of the engines. “We’re twenty … Continue reading George, Part I
After finishing the letter, Tom unpacked and showered. Refreshed and dressed – jeans, loose shirt, flip-flops, and sunglasses, he stepped out of his room and walked to the lobby. A new desk clerk was on duty. He gave her his room key. She was beautiful, tall for a Thai woman. Her black, braided hair was wrapped around her head. She smiled at him. “Yes, sir?” “May … Continue reading Sasi Part I
“You’ll have to tell me how to make a gimlet.” Tom spoke from behind the bar as he opened the refrigerator. “I may have tasted one, but I’ve never made one.” He removed a pitcher of sangria and poured a glassful. “I think I’ll have sangria instead of beer.” “One part sweetened lime juice, four parts gin,” Sasi said. “Add a slice of lime too. No rocks. … Continue reading Sasi Part II
We worked at Busch Gardens and saw each other often at the Festhaus. Freyja enchanted me from the beginning. Twenty years old, short blonde hair, bright blue eyes, pale skin, red lips, cherry cheeks: a petite Teutonic Goddess. Freyja worked as a server, while I delivered food and dry goods from the food service warehouse. We were on smiling terms but not much else, although she seemed … Continue reading Revelation
The Writings of William C. Pennington 