A Woman of Letters
My friend and writing coach told me once that even when I'm not writing, I'm still a writer. At the time it sounded like a convenient excuse. If someone asked me "what do you do?" I had permission to say "I'm a writer" even if I hardly ever sat at the computer to write. Writer sounds so much better than Facebook junkie. I'm shocked to see I haven't posted anything on this blog since the beginning of March. While I often think about the drafts I have in my saved file, I haven't had the motivation to go back and pick up where I left off. Like this poem, I started: Good Friday. A day of mourning. Maybe that's why I dreamed that my father was dead only I didn't believe it. Mourning is a long arduous journey It bends in places you'd never expect, twists around curves when you want to go straight, Goes left when you want to go right …. I have no idea where I was going with that. Some of the bloggers I follow have l...