Stan and the Moon Shadow

Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page. Stan and the Moon Shadow By Su Shafer It was THE SOLAR ECLIPSE DAY!  When he got out of bed, the moon was moving in the sky. As it always was, of course, but with more excitement that day than usual.    It was common place for the moon to be seen in the daytime, but today  It would meet the sun face to face and wear its fiery crown, as  The Earth looked on, far below.   It was a big day for the moon, but for Stanley, not so much. Just another passing shadow added to a life  Where everything was painted with a leaden umbra.   When he opened his eyes, his room overflowed with a dull gloom   More than darkness, as if the blackness in his dreams spilled  Out of his…


Yearnings . . . Prompt #791

As a child, what toys or games did you see advertised on TV, or in the Sears Roebuck catalogue, that you wanted and didn’t get? OR: What toys did you want that your friends had and you didn’t have? OR: Write about being jealous, or feelings of “have not.” OR: Yearnings: Then or now. Frances Lefkowitz wrote a wonderful memoir, “To Have Not.” #justwrite #iamawriter #iamwriting

Guest Bloggers

Your Creative Self is Eager to Explore

Today’s Guest Spot goes to Suzanne Murray. I recently watched a video of a 42-year-old neurosurgeon from California who dances for his patients to cheer them up during their check-ups. He gets them dancing too, including a young woman in a wheelchair seen waving her arms and shimmying her chair. I love that this doctor had found such a creative way to tend his patients spirits as well as their bodies. I imagine it’s a great help to their healing. It has me thinking more about how being creative can help heal our world. Creativity allows us to access new ways of looking at a problem and find fresh solutions. We touch expanded capacities and find ourselves capable of more than we think. We connect more to our heart and spirit. We are often surprised and delighted by the unexpected inspirations that arrive. We can learn to bring the creative…


The reason writers write

Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page. Today’s Sparks is an excerpt from Sally A. Kilgore’s Blog, Daybits. Three years ago, I fed Bob Kilgore his breakfast and he hopped up in the kitchen window to sunbathe. I sat at the kitchen table with my cappuccino, wondering what we had done. We had uprooted from a place we’d been for close to twenty years, a shady place of green lawn, a hilly yard, and the comfort of good neighbors. We had decided to downsize our home and build something fresh and new while we were at it. So, I sat in the new kitchen with Bob, sunlight blazing in, a sodded backyard, boxes to be unpacked. Our home – Mildred – was an island in a construction zone, surrounded by mud, with a porta potty next door. We’d been deliriously happy, the house…


Caught Up . . . Prompt 788

Are you, or is your fictional character, caught up? Caught up with current slang Caught up with current events Caught up with something that takes too much of your energy or time Caught up with TV shows you want to watch. Caught up with correspondence: letters, emails, texts, phone calls, messages Caught up with things that need to be done? If yes, how does that feel? If not, what would it take to be caught up?


A Memorable Day

Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page. A Memorable Day By Cheryl Moore We had arrived in Mashad, a city in north east Iran, the night before. It is the site of the holy Shrine of Imam Ali Reza, the eighth Imam, a site where the followers of the Shi’a branch of the Islamic faith make pilgrimage. The mosque was a beautiful, gleaming white structure with four minarets, one at each corner. Women must cover up with a chador to enter. As I didn’t own one, I had to borrow one, but it only came to my midi-calf, not my ankles, as it did on Iranian women. My pale skin and blue eyes gave me away as a foreigner. I couldn’t just blend in. Before entering we had to take off our shoes and leave them outside on the steps. I hoped mine…