Wednesday, November 17, 2021

Worth the Telling

I feel like I've gone into hibernation mode a little bit with the failing of the light. North Dakota winters get very cold, dark, and deadly icy, and I'm not sure I will ever get used to that. So I'm trying to concentrate on the bare essentials of what I want to get done before 2022 hits the calendar. I'm aiming to have at least two fully revised Agent Regalia chapters finished.  

But sometimes, I feel like I'm all out of me. Stories, inspiration, even a single word worth the telling, all hollowed out and gone. And that's okay . . . really, it is! Some days, it's time to relinquish the quill and just listen. To take in the world, family and friends, the gemmed shine of someone else's creativity pinning itself against the shadows like a tiny sequin star. 

I think it also helps to nurture both the body and the imagination, which is why I am thrilled to have stumbled upon the elegant ambiance of this local Victorian-themed teahouse and cafe. I do so love any excuse to dress up fancy!

Soiree Victorian Tea Room

Friday, October 15, 2021


Sometimes petals are set in stone, sometimes the wind carries them away. Stories fly free of the page, but we can't say where they will fall or if they will grow. We just keep etching our hearts out and inking again.


Thursday, September 2, 2021

September Goals


Hurrah for September! It's my b-day month, and the SCBWI Dakotas 2021 Fall Conference is coming up soon. Assuming I can free my hand from cat hugs, I plan to send Bad Species off on the sea of submissions in a few weeks. I think it's been at least FIVE years since I've tried querying a novel, and I'm honestly kind of excited to see where my stories take me now . . . until I hit the reefs of rejection! I'm ready. 

I've been sharing poems I wrote a long time ago on Wattpad for fun, and I think this one suits my mood perfectly:

The Swallowtail

 Undaunted by the scorner’s scoffs,

The nosy earwig, or the multi-pedian

Myriapods of discontent—


Believed in flying.

 Her essence distilled in threads,

Tender-binding, silken strands

That wrapped her plump, ember-body

Round and true (As a seed).

 Moon and sun orbited her cocoon,

Stars trailed by in a milky gauze;

A new world evolved within a Word.

At last,

Lucency called her out.

So, leaving the ground behind

For the bliss of air-spent ways—

 She gave her grace to wings.