Writing. Life. How often are they one and the same. The more I write, the more I realize that my work absorbs my experiences and my experiences seep into my work. It is a very fluid process. Not noticeable, perhaps, most of the time, but for some reason this morning I see through it. Now. Today. This moment seems to tear back the curtain between myself and my creativity and I realize everything is a story—everyone is a character.
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Perhaps in cooking with your mother, or father if he was the cook, you had days when you didn't quite have a recipe. You were just winging it...putting in ingredients and hoping the result was something palatable. You find an onion, carrots, celery, chicken, and when you hold them up for inspection and raise an eyebrow as if to ask "should we use this?" the response might be "yeah, put that in there...it'll add flavor" or color or substance or...
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Wendy Picard GorhamWendy lives and works in the midst of words everyday--English teacher by profession, and writer by passion! Archives
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