Month: June 2018

Knock on Wood

I’m writing again (see post title).

I debated back and forth about whether or not to blog through my experiences writing this second novel of mine. I tried it with my first, but was massively inconsistent. In the end though, I’m not so sure that matters much. What matters is that I did finish that first book. It took a variety of motivators, but I got it done, and I’d very much like to do that again. I’d like to do better though. I’d like to write better, and take my work farther. That first one, it’s all mine. Few eyes have scanned it’s pages. It’s secrets will die with me – something I find oddly romantic, but it’s not what I want for all of my work.

It’s world cup time. I was doing this exact thing four years ago. Starting one of the biggest creative projects of my life. Summer of writing.  Summer of soccer. I haven’t missed a single match. This tournament transcends sports and athleticism for me. It makes feel a bit more connected to the world. There are always surprises… sweet little peeks into other cultures through the lens of a goal celebratory dance, an underdog upsetting a champion, tears of joy, tears of heartbreak… I find it all inspirational. Watch parties with friends and strangers alike. Cheers, flying beers. Good fun. Good fun. I don’t know why, and I’m not questioning it, but something about it all makes me want to contribute… to share. Every human being has something unique to offer up to the universe. Athletes, teachers, travelers, scientists, writers, yogis, mamas, cooks… countless people could put themselves in any of these categories and more, multiple, but their approach, their specific contribution is special and cannot be replicated. I think it’s lovely. I’m also ridiculously sentimental though. 🙂

Anyway this book… my second book. It’s essentially a fetus.  It’s an outline and an opening paragraph. There’s a long way to go, but I’ve been here before. I’m excited to do this again. This makes me happy.



Dear One

Dear one,

Write me a song.

Make it silly, like us.

Hug me.

Tell me you love me.

Lift me up,  so I can see the pretty things.

Dear one, I don’t mean literally…

See, your words,

They make my legs long,

They make my back strong.

You’re magical, dear one.

Speak to me.

Your voice is healing.

Your voice is invigorating.

Be with me, dear one.

Sass me, then laugh with me.

Kiss me, dance with me, challenge me.

I know you. I trust you.

You’re made for me, and I for you.

Dear one, come find me.




#WriteEveryDay diamonds, trash, or something in between #WriteEveryDay

Feel, Don’t Touch

My truth is hidden in the darkness.

A firecracker encased in blackness

Sparkling, crackling, and emoting

In a sound proof room.

Monsters with no eyes lurk there,

Desperately seeking something they will never find.

They cannot tell day from night

They cannot tell salt from sugar

And yet, I fear them still.


Brave adventurers scour the darkness in pursuit of my secrets.

They have much in common with the monsters.

Cannot see.

Cannot hear.

But they can smell…

Rain. Ocean. Tears.

Can almost taste it…

Earth. Water. Salt.

The scents are transformative.

They are also distracting.


My truth is hidden in the darkness.

Only one sense can be used to find it.

Dear adventurer,

Close your eyes

Plug your ears

Overwhelm every taste bud

Every scent receptor

Clear your mind, open your heart.

Meld with the blackness. Be silent now.

It’s just there…

You can’t touch it, but you can feel it.

Magnificent. Tragic. Light. Heavy.

Tell me, can you feel it?

Complex. Simple. Fiery. Cool.

Tell me, can you feel me?



Today’s not-so-secret: I am not a poet. I know nothing about poetry. (can you tell? haha) I don’t even particularly enjoy reading it. What happens is, see… I fill up with words. They fall out. I dump most of them into what wants to a be novel. The scraps… well, they are what they are. I am profoundly emotional (#becausehuman), but it’s not socially acceptable to publicly feel all your feelings. Mostly I think that’s good (there’s enough drama out there already). Hopefully for me, stock piling emotion will result in a pretty piece of written work one day. That, or a melodramatic pile of entertainment. Either or. Either or, my friends. 🙂

Peace to you!