PROMPT: All about words I stopped writing Because I wanted To write like them They were better Smarter, more clever And it hurt me That I wrote like this Small thoughts So simplistic Like a dog Pissing on hydrants Here I am I have words That mean little That change nothing So I stopped writing…
I got lost. One moment I was speed typing my thoughts across the page. My thoughts racing so fast I could barely keep up. I’d slap a corresponding picture up, type in a few tags and hit publish. Not once a day but several times a day. The next moment, two years later or maybe…
I was raised by my dad to believe I was strong. That I could do anything I put my mind to. And I believed him. When it came to work ethic and morality I was as strong as most. Put a goal in front of me and I would smash it to pieces. But……
She had been lying on the floor staring at the ceiling for some length of time. The sun had come and gone and the day had not made any new marks upon her recollection. Realization would come. But not right now. Eventually she would fall asleep and dream about screaming cats and falling rainbows. Hordes…
Please welcome today’s #BeReal guest, Fat Bottom Girl. The load of shame I carry on a daily basis weighs me down. I wish I could tell you when I picked up this particular baggage, but I cannot. I’ve carried it so long, that it’s become a part of me; melded into my marrow. My shame…
Please welcome my #BeReal guest today, Simon Overy So then, let me begin by thanking Hasty for giving me this opportunity to entertain (he said hopefully) her many readers and in doing so offer a big thank you to you readers out there in the blogosphere for taking time out to, you know, read…
My #BeReal guest today is Ned Hickson. As a humor columnist, I get paid to be a truth-stretcher. An embellisher. A chronicler of life blown out of proportion. And I get to do it without living in Washington D.C. It’s a skill my mother will tell you I began honing at a young age…
I am not a writer. I am very adamant on this point. I write but that doesn’t make me a writer. A writer spends many hours learning the art of writing. They learn the rules and understand its etiquette. I know some amazing writers and to call myself a writer would seem disrespectful. BUT you…
Written by: Lisa Listwa Blogger at: The Meaning of Me Not too long ago, a friend told me I was brave. I think the word she said was brave… she admired my chutzpah in posting my whole and actual weight in a group setting focused on lessening our overall gravitational pull. The compliment did…
Title: Why does the creative spirit dare to #BeReal? Written by: Sarina Steinlein Blogger at: Sarina Steinlein Why do poets write? Why do artists paint? Why do musicians sing? What is this compulsion of the creatively minded individual? Some will say the reason for their sleepless nights and endless consummation of caffeine is a…
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