Writing can be such a lonely endeavor. I remember feeling isolated when working on my first novel because a.) no one else knows what I’m thinking,b.) no one besides me knows who these characters are, and c.) no one can see how the plot will unfold. I felt like I was annoying my friends who … Continue reading Solo Writing Retreat: Making the Most of the Time
Candlelight flickers, casting a halo of light Into the darkness around me. I shiver lightly, goosebumps forming on my skin. What memory will I stumble upon next? I wander through the mystical realm of my imagination A wide open land of endless opportunities I peer into the distance and see a snow-capped mountain peak, The … Continue reading Paint Chip Poetry #3: A Big Mistake
I remember the first poem I ever wrote. In fact, I still have the original copy, 36 years later. I don’t remember the details, of course, but what I do remember is how much I adored my third grade teacher, Ms. Hawes. I would do anything within my power to impress her. When she once … Continue reading Remembering My First Poem: A Tribute to Ms. Hawes
BLANK CANVAS Everyday is a blank canvas. Some days, The canvas is full of gold medals And lucky pennies, On those days, it’s easy to see everything Through rose-colored glasses, To forget that It isn’t always like this. Other days, Your canvas seems dark as night. You find yourself in a Deep, dark wood, Or … Continue reading Paint Chip Poetry #2: Blank Canvas
I sucked air between my teeth in a hiss, not wanting to wake my husband, but wanting the pain to stop. I had been in the midst of a dream, but I couldn’t remember it. I grabbed my wrist and felt it was hot and slick with what could only be blood. I jumped out … Continue reading The Scar
I may have a new obsession: I picked up Paint Chip Poetry: A Game of Color and Wordplay by Lea Redmond on a whim at Blick Art Materials when I was in Atlanta last week. I thought it might be a fun little activity to do when I hit a wall of writer’s block or … Continue reading Paint Chip Poetry
My mother is blessed with smooth skin, thanks to good genesand Oil of Olay. Despite hours in tobacco fields or laying out on a towel, the scent of Johnson’s baby oil lingering in the air, a pitcher of sun tea brewing nearby, she has always tanned gently,like a soft caramel. Growing up, I longed to … Continue reading Summer Sun: A Poem
Listen I have something to say Sometimes the words are easy I don’t have to drag them out Today The words are hiding Refusing to come into the light Empty pages stare blankly The words just won’t come The voices inside whisper No one’s listening anyway Even though I write (Now read from the bottom … Continue reading Listen: A Reverse Poem About Writing
Within a one week span, this mama’s heart had to process prom dress shopping with my daughter, scheduling her first college visit to an out of state school (gulp), and watching her drive down the street by herself for the first time after passing her driver’s license test. While she is enjoying her newfound freedom … Continue reading Coffee Spoon Moments: On Prufrock & Parenting
“Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.” (Edgar Allan Poe) I’ve had a dark green, hardcover copy of The Complete Stories and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe on my bookshelf for as long as I can remember. When I was a kid, this particular … Continue reading Edgar Allan Poe Speakeasy Review
Amy Bellamy, Author 