fiction
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A Rambling on about unfinished pages, beloved rereads, and the one book I will never truly be done with. I have a complicated relationship with unfinished books. Not hostile, exactly. More like the relationship one has with exercise equipment bought in January… hopeful, slightly guilty, and occasionally dusted with good intentions. There are books on…
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Rambling on through a broken heart about fictional worlds and losing the light in a world that is growing darker day by day… There is something wonderfully tempting about the idea of living inside a fictional world. Who wouldn’t want to step through a wardrobe, traverse a secret entrance behind fireplace, board a starship, wander…
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Because I am never satisfied with simple… Let’s dream deeper. Some people dream of dinner with movie stars, royalty, or long-lost relatives. Me? I want a table crowded with authors, the sort of gathering where the coffee gets cold, the candles burn low, and the food grows cold. I feel that nobody would even notice…
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Rambling on about My Wonky Little Furry Family…. I am dog people. Always have been. Not “I like dogs” people. Not “aw, what a cute puppy” people. I mean dog people—the kind who can spot a mutt across a parking lot and immediately begin wondering about his backstory, his snack preferences, and whether he has…
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There is something deeply human about finishing a book, closing the cover, and still feeling the story moving around inside us. Sometimes we are satisfied. Sometimes we are unsettled. And sometimes, if we are honest, we sit there quietly wishing the ending had gone another way. That feeling raises a question I have been turning…
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If I could have dinner with any fictional character, I would absolutely choose Jessica Fletcher from Murder, She Wrote. Not a superhero. Not a wizard. Not someone with a dragon or a secret kingdom. Give me J.B. Fletcher, mystery writer, world traveler, Cabot Cove icon, and the woman most likely to solve a murder before…
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Reading has always been a form of travel for me. I can be sitting in my favorite chair, wearing socks that absolutely do not match, and suddenly I am walking cobblestone streets, crossing windswept fields, or standing at the edge of some ancient cliff with my imagination doing all the heavy lifting. Books do that.…
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Sequels are tricky little creatures. Sometimes they arrive like an invited guest bearing dessert, and sometimes they show up unannounced, wearing muddy boots, asking where the snacks are. The question I am pondering today is, who gets to decide whether a book deserves—or even needs—a sequel? My answer is simple… the writer does. The author.…
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Reflections from Childhood in the 60s and 70s….. Growing up in the 60s and 70s, I truly believe it was the best of times. Our days were filled with adventure… bonfires, campouts, sharing ghost stories, and lying outside on summer nights, scanning the sky for UFOs with wonder and excitement. Back then, we dared to…
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Rambling Thoughts on a Cloudy Day, it all started with a sign… Today is one of those days—cloudy, with a chill lingering in the air, not just outside but within me as well. The grayness seems to seep through the windows and settle on my thoughts. My mind flits about, half cataloging the tasks that…
Dirt Road Therapy 