Writers in touch with the sources of their inspiration are the ones who will keep writing. Stacia Fleegal offers tips for actively pursuing them, rather than waiting for them to strike, by cultivating self-awareness.
Have you ever needed to blend in, become part of the background? Ever want to hide? Or maybe this photo makes you think of the genius of camouflage, the relationship between living beings and our environment, or of what lurks unseen, but seeing, in the tall grass?
What do you think about when you look at this image? Write about it, then enter March's photo writing prompt contest.
With writing, as with all people and practices that matter to us, we have to devote time and energy to maintaining their presence in our lives. Stacia Fleegal writes on how to be aware of the challenges and have a plan for balancing them.
I saw a red-tailed hawk last week, camouflaged in winter white, no red tail flashing—playing on the wind! I stopped my car on that country road where I rarely meet another traveler.
The hawk tumbled like a crow. I’ve seen crows play on the wind. This hawk wasn’t hunting. It was having a wonderful time!...
The coronavirus pandemic has the world in upheaval. We are distancing ourselves from others, isolating with our families, and working and learning from home. Our days probably look and feel radically different than they did even a few days or weeks ago, which might produce a great deal of anxiety, fear, and frustration.
But we will be ok.
Ever take a chance, a leap of faith? Ever stretch yourself beyond what you thought was possible? What happened when you did? Did you stick your landing, or did you stumble or even fall? Or maybe you can’t stop wondering about this gal, what she might be running from or toward. And do animals get scared to jump?
What do you think about when you look at this image? Write about it, then enter February's photo writing prompt contest.
One of the first stories I wrote to submit to the children’s book market, and therefore, first, to the writers group, the one I’ve written about here, in these blog posts, was called, “A Long Way For Tinker.”
“You can write,” one of the writers in the group told me after she’d read it. “But I don’t think this one will sell either.”
When I was in kindergarten, at four years old because I had a January birthday, I met Donna Pukatch, who would become my best friend until I left Brooklyn, when my family moved to Queens. We were already bonded by the time of this recollection...