New Book

New Book
The House On Sunflower Road

A Writer's Prayer

As writers, we put ourselves out there for all to see, and the only dressing we finally get is in the comments coming our way; comments that layer our nakedness piece by piece until we are dressed. And when we are fully dressed we do the process all over again. For what worth is a work if no one touches it with their eyes, if no mind falls into the story, and in the leaving no weight of connection propels a response? Elizabeth
March 2, 2010



The 'walks' of my mind!

Many things walk through my mind; it changes with the choice of time. For instance, during the day, I tend to write with a conscious eye, with a temperance toward word choices, almost as if I've an invisible watcher editing my thoughts before they find print; now, night time offers a different stage for my writing, I feel the mellowing of my words, my fingers fly across the keyboard with the courage of a Delilah, and thoughts sing a purer truth as the cover of darkness cheers me on. It seems most problems find an answer with only the light of the monitor in front of me. The darkness of the room lets my imagination have a free hand, no censoring of ideas, or judgment sitting on my shoulder.

The 'Memory Chair' -

"This...sitting around the fire," Wa`si said, "reminds me of my father and his friends. They would sit around the campfire gathering up its energy and before long there would be sharing time. The one designated to talk held the 'memory chair' until his story ended." He paused, as though his story mimicked the moment as the fire's strength entered into him, giving his words newly found power. "When I reached manhood, at sixteen, I was allowed to sit with the group. It was from these stories passed around from the one in the 'memory chair' that I learned the meaning of honor, and the importance of everything relative to what's around us. Best of all, I was taught that a strong man can show meekness without being weak...and shed tears without feeling shame....

Cherokee Proverb

Don't let yesterday use up too much of today!

Thursday, June 4, 2009

'The Watcher'..text from The Long Night Moon

"Tell me about Norman Normans," she said. She watched Wa`si's eyes go suddenly round.
"So you've met 'The Watcher'. When was this?"
"Well, he came here on the day you left with Nunda, wait a minute. What did you call him? The Watcher? Are we talking about the same man?" Her eyes mimicked his.
"We are. That's what my people, and others, call him. He seems to have a third eye that sees things...guiding him where's trouble, especially in the last few years."
"I don't think we're talking about the same person, " Darcie said, shaking her head.
"Tall, skinny, drives a Bookmobile?" He saw the doubt still on her face. "Years ago, he showed up in town driving an old Volkswagen loaded with books. His story was that his mother, a librarian, died, leaving him with thousands of books. He lent them without charge and people soon got used to him. He seems harmless enough, but..."

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