For many, bringing a sense of clarity is a daily struggle even before COVID-19. Now digesting and swallowing the bitter pill laced with self-quarantine, self-isolation, shelter in place: a table reservation is with one’s self—these new buzz words have replaced the more acceptable (and sadly accepted) terms of living: SOLITUDE, ISOLATION, AND LONELINESS. 
Writers, all too well, are used to living in a quagmire of cubical existence. We call it creativity. How fortunate writers are: we know the rules. Continue reading
Last week while looking though my window at the endless rain, my brain raced with ideas for my next 
A major task in my city is freeway driving. Trying to get from 
A tree is in my house. A tree in my house is unadorned with lights, ornaments, or presents. I’ve been studying its shape and its nakedness.
I’m always reflective in the last two months of the year. I’ve always been this way for as long as I can remember. The changing of the seasons from fall to winter brings thoughts of the end of a year, and more often, how fast time has passed.
The journey, when writing a story, is a ticket with no expiration date—It takes as long as it takes.
Writing is a job, a skill, a passion, and a journey. In all its hard work, there is nothing better than seeing the results, of what took a VERY long time laboring. Finding 
The unknown for me is 
As a writer, a real fear of oblivion is