The School Of Difficult Writing
I got a new camera for Christmas. My husband can’t stand to see me struggle over anything, and although I never complain, there must be a look. A frustrated glaring at whatever device I’m mangling into some modicum of acceptable performance. For instance, he gave
Fyi, y’all. My website is undergoing an overhaul – this time not by me, but by professionals. Amen to that! As much as I like plunking around and figuring out themes for a new look on occasion, the end result never quite meets my expectations
Did you keep a diary while growing up? It’s sort of funny, and I never thought about it until recently, but all the diaries I ever came across (even now) are patterned with the idea of a little girl writing in it. Pink, pastels, flowery
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX In the end, it hadn’t mattered who would have believed me about Uncle Ray, because afterward, no one would forget. I’m going to let that stand as it is. No commentary. It’s hard to believe there are only two more First Sentence
Do you remember your mother quizzing you, expecting certain answers to questions? I sure do. It was meant to see if I did as I was told, or if I went somewhere I wasn’t supposed to, would that sneakiness creep into my facial expression or
We used to take trips to Maine every summer, which is Mom’s home state. That trip was the highlight of the summer months. We always left in the evening, around 6:00 p.m., after Dad got off work. Mom would have spent the week before packing
