Your Warm

The First Day

For the past nine years, I've forgotten November first. 

Seriously, the entire day. Something in my brain has allowed me to completely skip past the day for years, shown through every November writing project. November is National Novel Writing Month. Since 2013, I have participated in NaNoWriMo, a month dedicated to the completion, however roughly, of a piece of writing. Every year, I miss the first day of writing, which always sets me behind for the remainder of the month. Occasionally, I have even forgotten to write until halfway through the month, leaving me scrambling to come up with 30 thousand words in a couple weeks. 

This year, I'm prepared. 

On the second, of course. I forgot about yesterday. 

This year my goal is 50 thousand words. As I start each day, I'd like to begin with a quick post depicting my process and process. And of course I wouldn't be an author if I didn't add: Look for the first volume in the Otherworld series, coming 2023. 

Forever Writing,

quill rose

manifesting finding a hand written note in the next book you read 📚

Albert Camus

Her Falling Star

Content Warning: self-inflicted violence

Estrella refused to look away from the sky, especially once she made her last wish on the star that shot across. She waited for another. Too late; her breath quickened. Starlight streamed down hollow cheeks. Estrella refused to take her eyes off the sky, even after the trigger was pulled.

Seagull friend

A Journey, New Home

In front of me are two steps.

Once taken, two more appear.

Will there ever be

more than two

visible at one time?

Behind me is one step.

On a road I already walked.

Will that step

be any different

if I took it now?

I know what I already walked.

I can strain to see what I have yet to traverse.

Is it better to retreat to the known

when I see one step further

in the unexplored?

Forever Writng

quill rose

Short Fiction- Untitled

In the backyard sat a camper van, spacious enough to fit a family of eight, a trampoline, and a large above-ground pool. Their house was one of those rich, suburban houses, with a white mother and father and their three children- two boys and a girl. Seven bedrooms, three bathrooms, a decked-out kitchen perfect for hosting holidays, and a special living room for hosting Bible Study on Wednesday nights. Toys piled up and the latest video games were always around. It was a house my family dreamed of living in, and we did live in it. Downstairs sat an uninhabited basement, fully finished with a small kitchen and living space, and three of the house’s bedrooms. This was where my family of seven moved. The best part about the house wasn’t the pool and it certainly wasn’t the trampoline; it was that we were not homeless for the five months that family allowed our stay.

Watching old AJR concert is my secret to writing