By now you know the drill: a group of writers come up with a list of words from which to draw. We write on our own for 30-40 minutes, and then come together to read what came from those words. It’s such a meaningful experience, we’ve come to call it Word Church.
I am a fan oscillating between sticking it out and upending my stable practicalities.
I am a masterpiece. I have developed skills that are hard to reach, but also are hard to pick out without a discerning eye.
I am determined to keep stretching to touch my toes–or other seemingly impossible goals.
I am a conqueror. I slew dragons I thought were too monstrous to even consider.
I am not a maestro, but I have discipline and desire and am effervescent about my passions.
I make much ado about integrity and aligning my words with my actions. I think little of the gibberish of others who say one thing and do quite another.
I mean to cross the Atlantic to see other perspectives and add to the screenplay that is my life.
I’d like to be light like bubbles on a breeze–not all the time but feeling the uplift of a quiet day unburdened by a chattery mind.
Ivy, my coonhound, compels me to step outdoors away from the isolation that compounds–especially on a long weekend.