I enjoy many forms of physical exercise, from climbing mountains, to backpacking along trails, to bicycling, and even swimming. But mostly nowadays I just go hiking, sometimes with my grandchildren and partner, but often alone. Working the muscles of my body is good for me and helps keep my joints working. I feel better after […]
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“Writing is a way of processing our lives. And it can be a way of healing.”~ Jan Karon Most writers write because not writing creates distress. I speak for myself when I say, if I don’t get my quota of writing in during the day, I am up half the night, unable to sleep for […]
As I was cleaning out my parent’s house I made all kinds of discoveries. Like most kids (I’m referring to myself here) I never once thought of my parents as people. They were Mom and Dad. What they did before me really never entered my mind. Their life consisted of station wagons, split two-level houses […]
Even before I found out my son had been murdered, I began writing about what I was experiencing as we waited for word of what had happened.
Writing My Memoir: Zero to Seventeen / Life Lessons in Story Writing My Memoir: Zero to Seventeen / Life Lessons in Story I took my concern about leaving a legacy of my grandchildren’s stories and wrote a book. My three grandchildren and I had collected a memory list based on completing the sentence “Do you […]
Writing a memoir is like opening a window into your life. It can also help clear the fog on windows of the past. Writing my own story in my memoir Nothing Like Normal (to be published by Black Opal Press November 14) caused me to wonder about the tales of my parents and ancestors and […]
I have been married to a man who worked for the CIA for thirty-two years and we spent many years living outside of the USA. I tell my story from the context of being a wife and mother making all those moves — 18 in 21 years.
People are driven to express themselves. Each of us has a story and an urge to tell it. No other style is as effective as the irreplaceable memoir.
On my arrival at Jeddah airport, Harold was there to meet me. As it was lunchtime by the time we arrived on site, Harold took me straight to the canteen. As we walked in, I noticed two seated English guys having lunch. On seeing me walk in, one looked up. “Do you have my passport?” […]
My pulse quickened as we walked up the white cement stairs to Ernest Hemingway’s famed Cuban home, La Finca Vigia. His presence lingered throughout the house.