Category Archives: Writing

It’s almost 6:45 a.m., and the street is still dark. The sweet lanterns on my porch glow like little moons. From the sound of a familiar engine and the quick sweep of headlights, I can tell the café owner has headed out. I resisted the urge to call after him, “Time to make the donuts.”Continue reading “Showing Up, Even When I’d Rather Write”

Word Raccoon is feeling quiet.She is contemplating the novel, since I told her this is the fall of the novel.(Season, not demise. She narrowed her eyes.) She’s not thrilled. But she’s considering complying. She wants only poetry. She has had summer nights of nothing but keyboard and lava. She does not want to give thatContinue reading “Word Raccoon: Not Made to be Subtle”

Now Playing: “Unforgettable,” Natalie Cole and Nat “King” Cole Word Raccoon had a hunch today. She suspected there might be something new waiting in a recently updated space she hadn’t thoroughly plumbed. (You know, the artsy places.) She was not wrong. There, a Fabergé-caliber Easter egg of sorts awaited her.  We gasped. We gawked. WRContinue reading “Unforgettable”

I finished reading a novel today and found myself with thoughts I wanted to share. Reader, I also found myself with a bottle of wine and a desire to create an autumn Sangria recipe, Midwest meets Barcelona with white wine and apple cider.  Guess which I went for? (Shared, I promise. And there are leftovers.)Continue reading “Autumn Nights Sangria”

Today Word Raccoon and I spent entirely too long mulling over the terms dramatic irony and proleptic irony. While we knew what both of them were, we had not heard the latter called that, and we thought long and hard about it all. And what it meant in context, naturally.  Then we heard part ofContinue reading “Ironic Distance “

Now playing: Xanadu, by Olivia Newton-John I’m writing a series of poems I’m tentatively calling Threshold.  When Word Raccoon and I read Jane Hirshfield’s “Writing and the Threshold Life,” the final essay in Nine Doors, we looked at each other, eyes wide.  Early on Hirshfield writes, “Every poem is a kind of threshold—between silence andContinue reading “Notes from the Threshold Life”

Now Playing: My Life Would Suck Without You (Kelly Clarkson) I was trying this weekend to pack for a short upcoming trip. Word Raccoon opened the suitcase, pulled out some clothes we had forgotten existed, and then wandered off to wave at passing cars like she’s the pre-fall parade marshal. The suitcase is still onContinue reading “Meter, Poetry, and the Unfinished Tasks”

Word Raccoon didn’t spot them first. Someone else did, a thrift shop patron with a good eye for hidden things who generously pointed them out without purchasing them because they don’t collect glass. WR is thankful for that. These two frosted glass shades sitting quietly on a thrift shop shelf, their stepped shoulders stacked like littleContinue reading “Word Raccoon Fashions Art Deco Bookends! “

Now Playing: She’s in Parties by Bauhaus  So the medical group I go to asked if I wanted to take part in a DNA study to check for inherited traits and health risks.  Sure, why not? They drew blood (no spitting in a tube like I was gearing up for a 23andMe llama audition), andContinue reading “WR Investigates: My DNA, Apparently”