WHAT MAKES A WRITER A WRITER?

Originally posted on CELONA'S BLOG:
…you would always catch them networking with written words 😉 This is a conversation I have with myself regularly. It is something I ponder, question, and do serious analysis when I ask my self certain question concerning writing. What makes a writer a ‘writer’? Writing is food. It is…

The Dylan Roof Assault

All I’m going to say is this,  He better be praying, because karma.  I feel like that was only the beginning. 

Empty

So, one of the blogs I follow throws out one-word prompts occasionally to help writers.  One of the prompts was “Empty”.  I think of this, and realize that it is a pretty good description of myself right now. Lately, I’ve been feeling like I have nothing left to give.  I feel like I’m putting forth…

Music, Cidar, a Pen and Some Paper 

Sometimes you just need to step away from yourself and take some time to breathe and decompress.  When this happens, I find myself writing; whether it be a story, plot scenario, poetry, or just personal thoughts, I need to get away from reality for a while.  I take “me time” very seriously. I think it’s…

Growth

My dad text me the other day and asked for a video of my daughter saying her ABC’s.  I sent him the video with no hesitation. We even talked about how smart and advanced she was. You want to know what growth looks like for me?  3 years ago, I wasn’t even talking to my…

#RandomThought: Desires

Ever want something that you know you couldn’t have, or that was completely out of reach?

Random Stories in my Head….

I have so many ideas in my head for short stories, and I just have to find the time to sit down and get them on paper. I’ve been so busy the last couple weeks with work, I haven’t had time to slow down and put the thoughts on paper. Luckily for me, they continue…

Empty

Another night, lying in bed, searching the ceiling for an answer it didn’t have.  Another night of talking to herself, asking questions with no answer.  Another night of empty and idle thoughts.  She wondered how perfection felt; wondered what joy was and if happiness ever existed.  She looked over her bed and found him lying there, sleep taking…