Author Archives: Susan

WRITING: Time

The more line I lay out, the more tightly I grip the roll of string that flies the kite of past.  It shrinks within the blank blue sky, hits a cloud and flies above it, changed somehow.  Tiny, tiny; but … Continue reading Continue reading

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LITERATURE: Planning & Knowing

The big idea was to read the last few pages of 100 Years of Solitude last night, but I was so intrigued by Survivor and then CSI (although I really do wish they’d learn to flick on light switches–yes, I … Continue reading Continue reading

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REALITY: As Literary Effort

The day starts out strangely.  Wakened by a kiss just like the old days when he’d leave for work.  Still dim light, I’ve only had a couple hours of sleep.  The neighbor needs some help, I dress and we go … Continue reading Continue reading

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REALITY: Marriage

Today is my husband’s birthday.  He is exactly eleven months, two weeks, and four hours younger than me.  He looks a lot younger than that; stress has taken its toll on my small frame.  (He is also almost twice my … Continue reading Continue reading

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WRITING: A Different Way

Getting hyper about a writing project that I’ve reincarnated to relieve and refocus the stress into a productive mode.  One thing I’ve learned about stress and the possible resulting depression is that it can leave you feeling lost and helpless … Continue reading Continue reading

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WRITING: Structural Planning

Well I’m finally into it again, turning my back on the reality that I can’t manage to control anyway.  And in this story project, I truly mean that it must be controlled.  Back to Powerpoint planning, back to forking paths … Continue reading Continue reading

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BLOGGING: Can You Hear Me Now?

If you can read this, then maybe Typepad finally fixed my problem.  Haven’t been able to load Spinning or any of the other weblogs of mine since this morning.  I’m paid through October 2006 so I’m only hoping that they … Continue reading Continue reading

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WRITING: In The Moment

Damn.  Four o’clock in the morning.  Last revision in place in the magazine, ready to go.  Six full hours of sleep and listening to the steady drone of the rain, the occasional click of the coffee pot heating, cooling, reheating.  … Continue reading Continue reading

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REALITY: Interference

Was on a hot trail with Marquez, or any author who manages metaphors and whether they know it or not, whether it’s natural or naturally ingrained from experience and if they’re aware or if not, if they smile when they … Continue reading Continue reading

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WRITING: Night Shift

Had I watched tv I would have been asleep perhaps.  I did prepare most properly for bed some hours ago, and slid inside beside the one who somehow loves me.  But even he could not dispel the thinking grinding machinations … Continue reading Continue reading

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LITERATURE: otto #2

Laidback laundry, lawn and layout day.  The Narratives Writers Group’s publication is  just about ready to go to print, awaiting some final inserts and editing.  This issue is honored with the inclusion of two of our blogworld’s finest writers, and … Continue reading

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WRITING: In a Real World

I am trying, I really am, to leave behind or at least set down for a bit the baggage of the present woes to concentrate the stress and high emotion into something good, a story not of but from myself. … Continue reading Continue reading

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WRITING: Inspiration

Sometimes it takes a bit of rubbing shoulders with creativity to come home with the residue to write. Inspired by others–though I be intimidated by Marquez, my solitary source for quite a while now–I may have discovered paths to take … Continue reading Continue reading

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LITERATURE: In Action

This evening I had the pleasure of viewing the work of two friends in short film and flash fiction formats.  Both of these pieces had started out in short story form, but both writers looked beyond the text to enter … Continue reading Continue reading

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WRITING: Getting Antsy

Feeling the flutter of story’s paintbrush in my inside that the outside has protected with shingled walls and shuttered windows.  I think I must have swallowed a muse. Continue reading

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