life of a georgia Artist

                                                              Photo by Prateek Katyal on Unsplash This week has cost us $1000. Car repairs are expensive. Lack of sleep due to having to tow the car and only use one car has been taking its toll on her and tempers have been short. I reminded us both that this was temporary. The car is fixed, the money was spent, and both vehicles are up and running. We didn't snip much at each other and when we started, I stopped it by saying, we are ok and we would both breathe.  Sometimes life is easy, sometimes it is hard and sometimes it is just right. (If I may borrow that from Goldilocks.) Life is not all sunshine and roses, but writing about it helps me work through it. Writing about any emotion or what is currently happening helps me gain perspective on what is truly important. Sharing life with the ones you love. Is this coming week going to be easy? I doubt it. There is a lot going on in my job right now, but at the end of the day, my famil

                                                         Photo by George Pagan III on Unsplash When our writing is dry as the desert it is lacking in imagery, details, and specificity of, well everything, and  I for one have been bad about getting the storyline down and then going back and filling in the descriptions, which is fine except when I say something like, he smelled like bourbon and oak, and I move on and don't write what that description means. He smells like those things naturally? He is a drunk? And then when I go back to the places where I THINK are the holes I realize I missed so many holes through my story because I was in a race to get down the bones.  I have been writing for years. You can find my writing on numerous platforms on and off the internet. I love to write. I love to connect with my readers and tell a story. It is like connecting a string of lights for me and when I get all the words connected all the metaphorical lights, well light up! There is an ah-

   coffee time A few years back I spent the summer traveling in Georgia to different coffee shops. Coffee is my jam. I love sitting in these lovely places and just people-watching. I listen to snippets of conversations and imagine everyone's life.  Who are these folks? Why did they come in today? Did they meet someone they were supposed to? Or perhaps someone new?  If you have been following me for a while you know I am obsessed with the theory of the third place. If you have not let me briefly explain the concept. The theory states that you have a home, work, and a third place. The third place is a safe space in the community where you can relax, talk with others, and just enjoy yourself safely. No judgment, just relaxation.  There are books on it, it is a real thing. Look it up. I did my 24-page graduation thesis on it. I used two books and juxtaposed two different third places. One an urban space, one a park. I used it on papers all through my college years and I was fascinated

                                                            Photo by Yannick Pulver on Unsplash I have been published a few times in different online places and also in actual magazines. When some might think that I have been lucky, I want to say no I have not. I work on my writing. I work on engaging in whatever the prompt is and I struggle.  This week ( ok honestly the last three weeks) I have been struggling with a poem and have sheets and sheets of paper to prove it. I love to still work out pieces on paper before typing them. It is way easier to erase on the computer than on a piece of paper. With magazine writing, you write for summer winter and winter the summer. It takes some mindset to do this when it is 95 outside your window. I struggled, while sweating, to write about the romance of winter. I also experience no real winters in Georgia.  Writing is sometimes, ok all the time, work. Coming up with descriptions, coming up with a rhythm, all of this takes work. I can be found

  Sundays are slower. Sundays are lazier. Sundays are made for rest. Sunday is never what it is supposed to be. When I think of Sunday I think of slowness, relaxation, and lots of coffee. Sunday is never that! Sundays are my writing day. I submit my pieces to online and regular magazines and blogs. I write the pieces to get published and paid. I take a block of time for me. Sunday though is laundry and mopping and sweeping. It is cleaning up from the week and struggling to stay afloat. Sunday is for relaxation and slowing down, but none really do. We are cleaning up from our Monday to Saturday messes. We put jackets back where they go. It is for picking up things from the wrong room and getting them into the correct room. It is for mowing, cooking, shopping, and getting the to-do lists done.  Sunday is for resting, but we do not. This Sunday I am taking it slow. I enjoyed a second cup of coffee. I wrote for some magazines. I wrote in my journal. I sip my tea slowly. I move about the ho