I stared at the phone ringing beside my laptop, its sound rattling my nerves like a jailhouse guard’s night stick against cell bars. It rang consistently, all times of the morning and night. I knew what the caller wanted. I knew what was at stake here. My stomach…Continue
The writer’s house sits at a crossroads. To her left is the sea of opportunity, new ideas and characters being channeled by her very own Long Island medium, her muse. To her right is the black pavement of ideas and characters stuck in concrete,…Continue
The plight of the writer is her head is always wrapped inside her imagination. I suffer from this plight. Inspiration comes to me from so many avenues, likely and unlikely. Maybe the reason is I am also a sensory and sensitive person.
It is also funny how the muse teaches you lessons about yourself as a writer. A couple of…Continue