Pen in Motion

Sometimes things happen — 

that’s what we say when it’s too complicated, 

or painful, 

or petty, 

or messy to explain 

and we just want to shrug it off, 

even though 

we know that isn’t happening 

anytime soon. 

Because things happen — 

like when I married the wrong man 

who bullied me 

into 

       the 

             ground 

and never thought he spoke unkindly. 

Or when I let that person 

break my heart over and over 

and over, 

like I’m not china. 

Or when the first of two monsters 

took something from me and left only scars. 

But hey – things happen. 

Yep — things.

These are some of my favorite quotes – a few that stay with me every time I sit down to write, to think about writing, or even just to think. Or even when I am going about my day and thinking about my book. These are words that have made me gasp in delight – so excited at their truth that I want to call everyone in my phone and read it to them.

(1) David Jacobsen

“I believe that every time I put a word down with the intention of making something to last, whether a story or novel or essay, I am inside a moment in which I better be attempting to wrestle with a matter of life and death.”

“I believe even the sheer act of writing is a matter of life and death, that if I am not here in my place and writing, that I am not seeking with the means I have been given – an ability with the written word – to find meaning that will matter.”

“…where I am sitting when I write is the sacred beginning of any attempt to make concrete via words those matters of life and death the worlds inside my own books seek to explore.”

“…I want to remember why I am here, and why this whole writing thing deserves my deepest attention, and my innermost focus.”

“Words and what they can do are important, because in the beginning was the Word.”

There is no end to the hypocrisy of the human heart.

That’s all for now.

(Mic drop?)

Remember way back when,

when it was easy to write and create 

and let stuff flow. 

And then, 

I got distracted by living outside 

of words. 

I left my comfort zone for 

flesh 

and 

blood. 

Also, I found love. 

Still got it – 

kind of a record. 

Who knew brown eyes and lots of Cribbage 

could make me forget about 

my other love? 

I found someone who 

got my brain. 

And He he listened about “thou” – 

big deal. 

But I’m inching back 

to words, 

to my pen, 

to the thing I loved 

before I loved 

those big brown eyes. 

It’s been a while, but I’m still here. For your reading pleasure – my try at flash fiction:

Exam Room 24

“I don’t like how men smell. Or really, I don’t how it smells. And how I smell after.”
The nurse looked up from her clipboard, but didn’t say anything. The young woman in the hospital gown continued speaking, either forgetting that she wasn’t alone or not caring.
“They’re always so shocked when I say anything – like they don’t think they smell bad. Like they think it would smell good. And it doesn’t go away quick either. Not even after a shower.”
“What is your name?”
The young woman didn’t make eye contact. “Emily.”
“And your last name?”
“Bronte.”
The nurse sighed quietly. “I’m going to need your real name.”
The young woman frowned. “They said it was okay to use fake names though.”
“That was the counseling hotline. This is different…we’ll need your actual name.”
“Can’t I just be her for a little bit? Just a little?”
The nurse stretched a smile on her face. “Sure, Emily – for a little bit. But eventually….”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“You mean did he force me? Don’t they all in some way though? Force it? The others were nicer about it, made it seem like I wanted to…made it seem like my idea sometimes. And most times, I probably mostly did want to. But it was always their idea before mine. And I always knew that, but I went along anyway. I’d pretend that I was all for it, and they’d pretend to call again.”
“But this time?”
Emily glanced down at her fingers. “I broke a nail, I think. Doesn’t matter, I guess, since the paint’s chipped on all of them.”
“Emily?”
“Yeah, this time he was just more upfront about it. I said no. Or, I think I did. I wanted to. I tried to pull away. He hurt, in general, you know? It was rough and he didn’t care.”
The nurse stopped writing. “I’m sorry, Emily. I’m sorry for him. For all of them, but definitely for him.”
Emily shrugged. “I guess I’ll have to talk about it again, huh?”
“A detective’s waiting to take your statement.”
“About time to stop being Emily.”
The nurse smiled gently. “Maybe after the examination. That okay?”
“Sure. That way someone else is being poked and scraped.”
“I’ll be gentle. Promise. Now, lie back please and we’ll get this done as quickly as possible.”
Emily’s chestnut hair fell over the back of the examination table. “I hate how they smell.”