Tag: life

life in my world

Hey, Readers! Happy Saturday! I hope life is treating you well. I feel like a chew toy, but I guess that’s what happens when you bring a new puppy into your life. She’s been here a week and I’m a mess of scratches and bruises from playing with her. This is Athena! She’s a Pyrenees

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sorry to disappear

It’s been a weird month filled with Covid, migraines, and a decided lack of writing. At least, any writing outside of the day job. Even after being mostly recovered from Covid, my days consisted of said day job and then vegetating on the couch because the fatigue hung on forever. I’m only just getting to

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life, writing, and muddling through

It feels trivial somehow to talk about the mundane aspects of a mundane life when around the world people are suffering and dying in zones of war, bombs falling from the sky, buildings reduced to rubble and scared populations huddle in the dark or flee desperately to foreign lands. At the same time, for those

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a reminder that freedom isn’t free

In the last two years, we’ve heard a lot of people yelling about their freedom and comparing masks and vaccines to nazi Germany. This week, we have had a glaring example of how absurd that actually is. While the US and Canada are mired under protests about mandates designed to protect the public health, Ukrainians

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dream a little dream

Have you ever woken up with your heart racing, sweat on your forehead, and anxiety riding you out of some nightmare that you can’t recall anything about? That was how today started. For the life of me, I have no idea what I was dreaming, but I woke up feeling like something or someone was

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#amwriting

Sunday, Sunday…this week Sunday means writing, cleaning, and packing/moving boxes to clean. Oh, and refreshing my hair color. I’m trying a slightly darker green this time. Sunday is also the day I watch paranormal type shows. I’m currently binging on Ghost Hunters Classic on Discovery. I’m working on the zero draft of a book I

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brain monkeys

Sometimes, inspiration is hard to come by, and the imposter syndrome looms large. As I stare into this year with a big move on the immediate horizon and the terrifying prospect of searching for literary representation battling my desire to take my writing career in a forward direction (versus just going with what I know

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