I have always prided myself for ability to write wherever I find myself – a bustling coffee shop, the middle of a crowded train station, or a tranquil hideaway.
The quote by Jules Renard makes me pause. The quiet reflective side of me connects to this quote and thinks of me as the young, almost painfully shy little girl finding her place in a large and loud extended Italian-American family.
Two weeks ago, before reading the theme for the weekly Writer’s Quote Wednesday (WQW) Challenge, I selected a Faulkner quote that ironically aligned with the theme. Typically, I don’t wait for the weekly theme to be announced to participate in WQW. Instead, I post what speaks to me and ignore the theme. This would be the second time Ronovan has chosen a theme my preselected quote aligns with perfectly.
One of the lessons
that I learned in my journalism classes in college was that good writers eliminate unnecessary words. Continue reading
Interesting theme this week and rather timely for me, Ronovan. This past Saturday, I had wanted to attend this new neighborhood association meeting but had several other commitments that had to take precedence. Initially when I realized I couldn’t attend the meeting I thought it wasn’t a big deal as the discussion was totally focused on this artistic group wanting to bring pop up art into inner city neighborhoods. I am not an artist, I told myself and don’t have any input for this discussion.
It is school vacation week in Massachusetts so I am getting to spend plenty of time with children in our extended family this week. Given that my nieces and nephews are buzzing around me as I try to pick out a quote to share today, this quote by Madeline L’Engle jumps off the page at me. Continue reading
I spent the afternoon relaxing, hanging out with P-Dubs. We picked out this quote for the week, then sat on the couch and contemplated how it pertained to me and my writing, took several phone calls, and eventually fell asleep for a cozy late winter nap under my warm and fuzzy corduroy throw. Continue reading