My love of words

and other things

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river

time is a river

I put markers in
like stepping stones

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?

Strong

Where you might see softness, I can find strength. Where you think you’ve found weakness, I can see depth.

Mixed feelings

Hearing music, being able to play it, singing it beautifully or singing it as if no-one else exists in the world. Tapping it out, hearing it as you run your fingers along a fence, sensing it in the pulse of another. Feeling it. It all blends to a sweet and personal harmony.

Podlike: ripe with allusions

The Allusionist is frequently surprising, subversive and powerful. This episode was an early, shining example.

Before too long

My first book. Beginning, middle, end. First draft, second draft, final draft. Darlings killed, darlings slayed. Done.

What memory is

Memory is weak, like water. It is strong, like waves.

The love of words

People sometimes say that names don’t hold meaning. That they don’t define you. But they can. And in the age of the internet, usernames are an opportunity to add meaning to who you are.

This has heart

But the heart it takes to share who you are, how much you’ve suffered only to be you, that’s something incredible.

Podlike: rumblings in here

This is the potential beauty of podcasts everywhere. This sudden light into the heart of someone else’s life.

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