Books and words and other things

Tag: storytelling love

Tricks of the tale


I wrote a little story last year. It was about music and its potential power and beauty. It explored the terrifying notion of how it might feel to exist without music in our world. It was a tender little piece. … it had magic, for all its lightness and air. It had depth.

One line

Some days, I wonder why I write stories. Is it to get published? Yep. Can’t deny that one. Is it to be read and heard, and maybe loved? Oh, yes. But why does it make me ache if I don’t?

The well

When I open the big book of writing, there’s often a dank, mossy well to draw from. It’s deep and it’s far from pretty.

I REMEMBER

So, why am I angry? I’m angry for the way that we lost him. That we had to lose him at all. What I want to say here, falls apart. I stare at this paragraph and the screen blurs. It is futile and it is anger. It is loss.

Writing hack anyone?

At hour 11, just to keep pushing, I found myself writing when I had forgotten how to write a proper sentence. How can that be good for me? Because, despite that, I was still writing.