Hello & good Monday — how is your Monday-ing so far?
(No post this morning ‘cuz we me and the pup took too much time practicing ‘heel’ on our walk — or at least practicing, ‘Don’t yank mama’s arm out of the socket, please.” )
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Have I mentioned how much I’m liking the online Reclaiming Our Erotic Story workshop? Though the workshop itself is different from the in-person version, the engagement/connection among writers is still strong, and the writing is still absolutely rocking my socks. Wow.
I hope to get to offer another online writing group soon.
I feel wildly fortunate about the amazing writers I’ve been able to work with over the last 9 years, and, too, for the stories/poems/tellings/rants/scenes/fantasies/revelations that have found their way to words — some of which have also found their way to print, into the world in various publishing formats.
We, together, make this creation possible for one another, y’all. Thank you for that.
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How do you know you’ve committed?
How do you know you’re doing what you said you were meant to do?
When you feel sick and terrified. When you take a step bigger than you think your legs, your body, can handle. When you are awake nights, wondering how to make it through, regretting that you gave up the safe, normal life, and
hearing yourself voice that regret, it’s when you take a deep breath and say to yourself:
I asked for this. This is what I wanted.
It’s feeling the anxiety begin to dissipate, molecularity, glacially.
It’s when you notice that you’ve been able to sleep, and that the nausea has slipped from your belly, when you look forward to your day and find that the new normal has come to take its shape around you.
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Thank you for all the space you make for others to change, and how you gently hold a little of that space open for yourself, sometimes, too. Thank you for your presence, your desire, your words.
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