Every morning, the teapot whistles as dawn breaks over the apricot tree.
I’m not a troglodyte by any means, but broken laid the the coffee pot in a pile on the porcelain.
I open the curtains, then my laptop and set to work. I gaze off. The cat jumps on the table. I’m in her space, in the roundabout of her alone time; she lies her body on my keyboard.
The dog barks and a shadow falls in the driveway. I stretch to see. The dog rages in a riotous rendition of woofs and whines. I unseat myself and lean to see the stranger.
Perhaps an unknown neighbor walking his dog.
And five minutes later, the same.
Five minutes later, the same.
I’ve bragged I know my neighbors. I can name them all, along with their occupations, breed of dog, or children’s ages.
But who are these strangers sauntering across my sidewalk? From another street, another block? Newly homed workers, students, families.
We are sudden friends when I’m outside, a wave and polite hello, and how are you?
The neighborhood decided to put stuffed bears in windows for the children.
The neighborhood decided to go on sign hunts.
The neighborhood decided to share extra fruit from their trees, oranges, lemons, apricots.
What will happen after? When we all go back to work? Will the strangers now friends become estranged once again? Or will we then, having walked the tightrope together, come and gather, share, and wish each other well from less than six feet, without our masks and our gloves?
Writing is somewhere between a mystical experience and an un-tameable superpower.
strays, acknowledge it (close your browser), and come back to your breathing (which for a writer is writing).
Hi, all. I wanted to give you the link for the interview: Check out 
It was a very thorough interview – she poked me with a stick until I gave it all up!
I don’t like the word “can’t.”
Others have limited views of what they can accomplish and, therefore, what anyone can accomplish, so they believe their guiding you away from an upcoming failure.
Chatting with my students, I reminded them I didn’t have google nor a cell phone and, if I needed to look up information, I had to walk to the library and figure out the card catalogue. (Of course, I added the obligatory “walk ten miles in the snow up hill both ways”).
I think I would be, like many people today, too distracted to focus on creating other worlds and investigating the motivations of people/characters.
I guess I’m saying, boredom can be good for you. Daydreaming, thinking, and spending an afternoon lounging without distraction can be helpful to a writer. We need to allow our minds wander sometimes, see where they go; keep your mind from distraction, turn off the tele, the cell, the computer, and be inhibited by the lack – your mind will rebel and it will begin to create.
In a writer’s group, I asked a specific person how one would use a certain program. They responded with, “I’d be glad to show you; my rates are very reasonable.”
in the same boat of trying to get our books, articles, short stories, or other out there to larger audiences.
When we all work together, we all become better humans. I want to share my ideas and experiences and share other writer’s with you, other ideas with everyone who desires to listen.
Sometimes, I wish I was the driver of the Karma truck. But, I suppose, being a writer is better. Still have the problem of sitting too long, but we get to exact revenge too. The best kind of revenge – in print.
But, first, I had to roll my eyes and throw back my head. I just wanted some sympathy, some empathy. But she gave me more than that – she gave me purpose, building from ashes, and a way for me to transmit sympathy to another by relating to a scenario which many of us have experienced. (I know, still too vague.)
Noreen Lace 
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