Today I’m writing the post I need to read, and more importantly, believe. As we reach the end of year, and look back over the last twelve months, it’s natural to evaluate one’s progress. Or, perhaps, lack of progress. I’ve worked on two novels this
Maybe it’s my stage of life, or maybe it’s working in middle schools, or maybe it’s a matter of diversity, or maybe it’s something else entirely, but I’ve been thinking about bodies. (However, this particular post will stay G-rated, family friendly.) In my writing I’ve
As someone whose life has always been governed by school schedules – first as a student and then an employee – summer is a big deal. It has its own sense of time and space. Life is a different in the summer months. When I
I’m feeling that December frenzy. Holiday prep stuff. Work is hectic. Company is coming. All the to-dos and who-tos and yoo-hoos are piling up. There’s lots of jolly good and fa-la-la joy… BUT: All I really want to do is finish my problem child novel.
My internal calendar thinks in terms of school years. As a student, as a classroom teacher, and as a mom, each separate school year adds structure and reference in a more specific and concrete way than traditional months or years. So, this time, right now, is