found

welcome readers & writers! 

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today's photo is of a letter we found in our gutters.  it was sent from australia to an address in minnesota. no clue how it got, unopened, to the gutter of our street in austin, tx... but it could make a great story! writers, come write with me. submit your short story, poem or creative non-fiction (300ish words or less) by clicking on comments below. 
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i'm back!  sorry for the delay... been working hard over here at my paying job :)  my contribution for this picture is below.  stay tuned for a special guest post tomorrow - by the all around wonderful author Kathryn Magendie whose blog you can find here.

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The letter was burning a hole in Sasha's purse. She'd tucked it there after checking her mailbox on her way out the door to the airport. She'd been expecting him to write. In fact she'd been pining away for nearly a year - checking the mailbox two and three times a day, even if the mailman had already been there. She'd lain for hours in her bed, unable to sleep, forming what words he would write, constructing each sentence in the way she thought he would say it, hearing each word whispered aloud, in his honeyed Aussie lilt. But his letter had never arrived, and she'd almost given up for good. Today of all days, the day before Thanksgiving, she found the letter in her box. She didn't have time to read it right now, or she'd miss her flight to Austin. Maybe she'd read it on the plane. And then again, maybe not. Maybe she didn't care what he had to say anymore. You don't tell someone you love them, that you'll be back soon, that you'll bring them out to see you, and then drop off the face of the earth for the better part of a year. A tear overflowed its pool and trickled down her face. Maybe she'd just toss the letter out the window of her brother's jeep and move on with her life. Just. Maybe.

gratified

happy thanksgiving, readers & writers!

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i am deeply grateful for so much, and very near to the top of the list this year is that i've discovered more fully this passion for writing. following the advice for aspiring writers, i started this blog. i had no idea what a joy it would be to write and read with you all! i never expected that the blogging community would be so affirming and nurturing of one another. thank you, thank you. blessings on your day. i'll be back on monday with a regular post. until then, feel free to write if you'd like - or just eat. eating is good!

minted

readers & writers, welcome!  

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writers, feel free to spin a little tale/poem/musing about today's photo prompt. just click on comments below to post. i'll be back to write, but probably very late tonight when i return from seeing harry potter 7.1 with my big boy. love the movies. love harry potter. love my boy. thinking about what it must be like for an author to have gobs and gobs of people be inspired by something you've written... and what it's like to see your story spring to life on the big screen. pretty cool stuff. thanks for stopping in!!  come write with me :)
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I'm back! I couldn't find the words last night to write about Harry Potter 7.1  It was amazing. And it really defies review because it just is. There's no going wrong for this iconic story that is so much bigger than ink on a page or pixels on a screen. Judging by the audience in the theater last night, Harry Potter is a universal story which brings hope, joy and courage to people of all ages. It has and will help shape the character of my boys, and for that I am incredibly grateful. Have you seen the film? What is your response?

remembered

welcome, readers & writers! hope your weekend afforded you some time for rest and play. we did a lot of catching up around here; not restful or playful, but it's good to be out from under mountains of laundry, toys and dishes = )

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today's writing prompt is a photo of a plant that grows beautifully here in austin. it's called setecreasea pallida, or 'purple heart.' writers, hope the photo and/or the title inspires a poem, short story or creative non-fiction response in you. if so, come write with me and share your response by clicking on comments below. remember, there's no pressure to have the writing be perfect. this is just an exercise to boost your creativity for the day. readers, the comments section is open to you as well. thanks to all for stopping in!

Mary shifted on 'her' bench, tilting her face toward the glimmering sun for a moment before returning her eyes to the blood purple plant just across the path. She wasn't mad at the sun anymore, for shining. And she wasn't mad at the young mothers for walking by with strollers holding sleeping newborns or mobilizing wriggling toddlers. She wasn't mad at all anymore. Just sad. Eternally, unremittingly sad.

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Something about the setecreasea plants nurtured a stillness inside of her - though it was a stillness void of comfort or peace. She didn't feel closer to her son here, in the park where he used to run and shout and play, where he'd gotten in trouble once as a teenager when he got caught smoking his first cigarette. She would never be able to talk herself into feeling close to him when there wasn't enough of his body left to ship home from Iraq. The stillness she felt looking at the purple heart plant came because, when she looked at it, she didn't feel alone in her sorrow. This living, weeping, beautiful thing with its skin the color of bruises was her daily companion in pain. So they sat, in proximity to one another, getting through the day. Soaking up the sun. Mary inhaled what the plant didn't need anymore. The plant inhaled Mary's sighs, deeper than words.       

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beheaded

welcome, readers & writers!  here's today's photo writing prompt - a little later than usual.  writers, would love to hear your creative take on the photo - story, poem or memoir - click on comments to share.  readers, comments are open to you, too.  thanks, all for stopping by.  see below for my spin on the photo.

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'ello all!  my name is Sir Nicholas. You might know me. My creator J.K. Rowling, God bless 'er, made me famous in her books about young Harry Potter. Nearly Headless Nick, they call me. Well, it seems I'm not nearly headless anymore.  Since I moved into this house with three young lads and one gargantuan dog, me head's altogether gone, now. Likely ended up in the washtub or under the sofa. Don't know how I'm speaking with you at all.  Magic, I suppose. That's one thing there's no shortage of here. Spells are always bein' cast about. Some are spells from the books, some are brand new made up spells like solar inferno, which - the lads say - engulfs its object in a ball of fire. Wands are flashing. Capes are flying. I hear a lot of talk about how many days until "number seven" comes out. Not sure what they mean, but it has something to do with me. And popped corn. Tin of tunny, I'd like to find me head by then so I could view whatever this "number seven" is. Ah well. At least maybe one of the lads might hide me in 'is pocket. Do ring me if you see it, won't you? 

  

dog-eared

welcome, readers & writers!

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here is today's photo writing prompt - writers, poem, short story or creative non-fiction, write away!  click on comments to share. readers, comments are open to you as well. thanks to all for stopping by!

5.7.5.
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lost in a world of
simple words, antique stories
lovley ways and days

imprinted

welcome,  readers & writers!

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today's prompt is a photo of a necklace given to me by a dear friend. some memoir-esque thoughts about the necklace and the friend are below. that's my response to the photo. writers, what's yours? click on comments below to share a story, poem or non-fiction response to the photo. remember, these prompts are intended to provide you with a writing warm up. so there's no pressure to produce an award winning piece of work here. just flex those creative muscles and we'll all go "oooh" and "ahhh!!" readers, comments are open to you as well. thanks, all, for stopping by.

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One of my college roommates came to town this week. What a joy it was to see her! We've stayed connected these uh-humm many years - a) because she's much more organized, patient and persistent than I am (thus a better correspondent), b) because, until recently, we had the good fortune of living a half a day's drive from one another - and the chance to cement the friendship as adults, and c) because we can completely and totally be ourselves around one another. We know the good, bad and, well, badder history of each other's lives and we love each other all the same. 

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My friend is one of the strongest people I know. She's been through more heartache in life than one person should ever have to endure; and yet she has been able, through sheer will sometimes, to be positive, vulnerable, open and hopeful to life. 

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Some years ago, when she was in the midst of a terrible crisis, I drove out and offered help in whatever very limited way I could. As I was leaving, she gave me the gift of this necklace. She explained that the word thanks, imprinted on the silver, was not only a literal expression of her gratitude to me, but also an offering of gratitude and thanks for life's blessings. That she could find it in her that day to give a gift to me, or to even say the word "thanks" out loud tells you volumes about her character.

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I wear the necklace often, always remembering my friend - what she's lost and what she's gained through these many years.  I wear it with gratitude for her and, inspired by her, for life's many blessings. 

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come write with me!

found

hello readers & writers! 

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here is today's photo writing prompt... something i found out in a field. writers, write away! poem, short story or creative non-fiction, i'd love to hear your spin. here's my 25 cents worth  :)
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With her ten tickets clutched tightly in one hand and her Granny's hand holding tightly to the other, Jarellyn scouted out the whole carnival before deciding which ride to do first. No matter that most of the other kids were wearing wristbands that meant they could go on as many rides as they wanted. No matter that most rides cost two tickets, meaning she'd just get to ride a handful.  Jerellyn's chubby cheeks were lifted in a big grin. 
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Granny had said they might not be able to come at all. But then, when they were cleaning out the coat closet, Jerellyn found a five dollar bill squished under some shoes. Ten tickets, two hotdogs, two sodas.  More fun than Jerellyn had seen in a long, long time. Since Mama left. 
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And she'd be able to talk with the girls at her lunch table about the carnival. She could say she'd been there. She could say her favorite ride. She could laugh about the silly clown running around making balloon animals and spraying people with a squirting flower. They paused for a minute; Granny needed to catch her breath. But just for a minute. Jerellyn, so excited to know that she'd be able to see the whole block from the top of the ride, tugged Granny toward the ferris wheel. The whole darn block. "This one," she said to Granny. "It's gotta be this one."
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come write with me! 

trained

welcome, readers & writers! 

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writers, looking for your pet stories, poems or creative non-fiction (memoir, anyone?) thoughts today. click on comments below to share.  readers, comments are open to you, too.  here's my doggie memoir, a memorial.


Maddy was the best dog I could ever hope to have, though to say "have" her doesn't feel quite right. I wasn't her owner, and I definitely wasn't her master, because - though she loved me - she never obeyed me much at all. She was just family, I guess. A furry little Ewok (black chow chow) about the size of a small watermelon when I brought her "home" to my college apartment, one which didn't allow pets, by the way. At full grown she was the size and shape of a big kid black bear. Once, when I took her for a walk around my apartment complex, a foreign exchange student very new to our country asked me, in a tremulous voice, "Is it bear?" She looked relieved to know that we crazy Americans aren't out walking our bears every morning.   
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Maddy-girl was sweet and stubborn, smart and playful. She thought about being fierce for about ten minutes when she was a pup, but once she was too big to growl at people from under furniture, she decided to go the docile route. She loved, loved to run and be chased... which made life difficult sometimes. At the least convenient moment possible she'd squeeze her way out the door as I was leaving or coming home and take off. I - and anyone else kind enough to help - would run after her for blocks. She was super fast. Every once in awhile she would stop, panting, and smile at us, watching until we got almost close enough to catch her, and then she'd take off again. She did this game for years until she got old. Eventually we stopped chasing her because the whole thing would end much faster after she'd had her run and come back home with a grin on her face. 
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By the time she was twelve, almost thirteen, she was not only my dog anymore; she was well loved by my husband and my two boys (one on the way). She'd been with me through college, graduate school, a number of very broken hearts, engagement, marriage, and two new babies. Always gentle, always sweet. In her last few years with us she mostly slept and watched the children play. She couldn't see or hear very well and so would kind of vacantly wag her tail when you'd talk to her. And she never played her chase game anymore, something I was grateful for. 
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On the night of November 1, 2004 - All Saints Day - in the chaos of the bedtime hour, I put her outside to do her business. I took a little longer getting back to her than usual and when I opened the door she wasn't there. She'd wandered off to our front yard and, heartache of heartaches, been hit by a car right in front of our house. Writing about the rest that night, and the days that followed, is too long and still too hard. 
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But I will tell you that several months later, still feeling awfully guilty and empty and sad, Maddy came to me in a dream.  I was walking up and down the aisles of a warehouse like place looking for her.  I rounded a corner and saw her way at the end of an aisle. She came running to me, grinning. She was young and spry and just herself. I knelt down and hugged her, feeling her silky woolen coat and kissing the bridge of her soft nose.  After that dream, there was peace. I miss her still, but I know she's okay. And I fully expect to see her again.

come write with me!

found

it's wacky wednesday, readers & writers!  since we don't have spoof saturdays anymore, we've got to be wacky at least a few wednesdays out of the month.

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so join me today in writing about this rather nasty, mysterious found object... Dr. Seuss style! Poem, story, or really creative non-fiction... rhyme away! writers, click on comments below to share your work or to heap praise on the hilarious, brilliant work of others.

white foot, light foot
ghost foot, gross foot
muddy, cruddy, narrow toes foot
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creeping, sneaking, on the path
reeking, leaking, needs a bath
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feeling sick now, need to go
methinks he's glad i said hello

thanks for stopping by!

stained

welcome readers & writers!

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here's today's photo prompt. writers, what do you make of it? story, poem or creative non-fiction - share by clicking on comments below! readers, comments are open to you, too.  

wooded

a good monday to you, readers & writers!  hope your weekend brought time to rest and play.

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here's my spin on today's photo writing prompt. writers, please jump in and share whatever poem, story or creative non-fiction thoughts arise when you look at this photo. readers, the comments section is open to you as well. happy reading and writing!


What kindness there is in the wise layers of this tree - to provide a row of steps for passersby? How many feet have lighted on these ragged roots? Four furry dog feet, pulling her person forward, "Faster! Faster! To the river!" The scuffed up dress shoes of a businessman on lunch, claiming a break from the neon glow of his computer screen. Hiking boots, fresh from the box, laced up by a woman ready to get up off the couch and be in the world again. Two sets of sneakers, his and hers, close together, holding hands, deep in puppy love, happy for every moment that's theirs to spend before going separate ways to do homework and chores. Twenty, fifty, maybe even a hundred people a day, tread the path, down the stairs, to the creek, to revel in the wonder of the world. Thank you, sister tree, for easing the way to Eden. 

Come write with me!

outpaced

welcome readers & writers! sorry i missed posting yesterday. i was, indeed, kidnapped by third graders aliens. they did something very strange to me; i blinked and suddenly it was friday. it's not photog friday... that will return next week. just plain old friday.

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writers, take a spin around this photo prompt and see where it leads you. story, poem or creative fiction - click on comments below to share. readers, the comments section is open to you, too! here's my spin on today's photo prompt:

I slide into the front seat of the car, exhaling the stress of the last eight hours. Exhausting day. Miserable week. Flipping crappy month. Nothing, nothing, is going right for me. Work. Family. Friends. Everything. It feels like everything is wrong, or off, or ruined, or out of reach. I start the engine and buckle my seat belt. I take the clip out of my hair and slip off my shoes. I push the power button on the stereo and the cheerful sound of my favorite audio book floods the car. Cracking the top on the soda I snitched from the communal fridge on the way out the door, I ease out of my parking space and onto the main road. 

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The soda's icy sweet bubbles bounce down my throat and back up again and I belch (like a sailor, to quote my mother) and then murmur an apology to the empty car. Just a few blocks away is the interstate. I nose my way into the rush hour traffic, turning toward home. At the edge of town - when I'm almost to my exit - traffic lightens up and my speedometer finally tops fifty-five. In synch with the car, something in me shifts, lets go, revels in the forward motion. My exit comes. My exit goes. I drive on until I've gone so far there's no turning back. At least not tonight. 

come write with me!

doodled

welcome readers & writers. thank you, Pauline, Alison & FilmGuy for writing with me yesterday. i love to read your work!

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here's today's photo prompt. artwork courtesy of my five year old. writers, if a story, poem or creative non-fiction response bubbles up in you, do share! just click on comments below. readers, as writers share, feel free to lavish them with loads of lofty laurels.
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5. 7. 5.
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on mom's fun paper
i draw me, grinning, jumping
how i see the world

rebuffed

hello readers & writers! glad you're here :)
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writers, what's your take on the photo? poem, short story or creative non-fiction ~ share it by clicking on comments below.  here's mine:
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I wish she knew how lovely is is - amber eyes, porcelain skin, a quick laugh and a quicker wit, an aura of generosity and kindness glowing around her.  I wish she knew how lovely she is, because I look just like her.  If she can't stand to see herself, what does she think when she looks at me?  

carved

readers & writers ~ hello! thank you for visiting write away every day today and for not giving up on my blog while i was away on fall break. after three months of blogging almost every day i was ready for a break. i feel refreshed and ready to move forward into the blogospheric future with ya'll.

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one small change as we start a new chapter together. i'll post a new photo every weekday - monday thru friday, but because my schedule is much busier (now that i'm back to work part time), i may not always post an accompanying story with the photo. in that case, writers, please do feel free to write! and readers, be sure to tune in through the day to read what others post.  to keep myself focused on writing, i vow to write about the photos at least three days a week.  

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here's my non-fiction spin on today's photo. writers, share your spin by clicking on comments below!  readers, feel free to use the comments section to heap loads of praise and encouragement on writers who post their poems, stories or creative non-fiction responses to the photo.
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We gathered with our neighbors on the driveway Saturday night for a pumpkin carving party. The air was blessedly cool (rare this time of year in Texas), the cicadas and crickets were singing and the kids were in great spirits.  First pumpkin carving party for me -- and a winner!  Though I love the end results of pumpkin carving -- adorable (or scary) pumpkins glowing orange and yellow against the dark of Halloween night, and crispy, salted pumpkin seeds right out of the oven -- I don't so much love scooping endless amounts of pumpkin glop and the tedious task of picking seeds out of slime, and minutes upon minutes of jig-jagging tiny, blunt razor blades through inches thick pumpkin skin. Being together with friends made the hard work such fun.  And, posting a photo of my kids' pumpkins seemed like the perfect segue between my fall blogging break and today.  I've been thinking a lot lately about what it means to do what you love, to evolve into the person you were meant to be in this world.  It takes effort, discipline, a willingness to muck through the slime (picking out the good stuff, because it's there) and the mental muscle to design and carve, carve and reflect, re-direct and carve some more until the image of the life you've been hoping for takes shape. It's a true challenge, but the alternative is darkness, no?
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come write with me!
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