The following is what my brain comes up with when I happen to ignore the metaphor of the glass ceiling in Rachel Platten’s “Broken Glass.”
Kit’s phone buzzed in the pocket of his gear jacket. Really? Well, if it were something important, whoever it was would leave a message. He was kind of busy battling demons at the moment. One of them was creeping up on him, but he jumped back and sliced through its tentacles like butter.
I was messing around with the “Pages” app on my new phone, and somehow, I deleted the fanfic I’d been working on.
The shot discharged with a cloud of smoke. Jamie gasped and winced with pain. That was the last straw. She had a lot of nerve just showing up, but she wouldn’t get very far. “Ian,” Claire said, “help him inside and wait for me.” “Of course, Auntie.” Once both of them were out of sight,… Continue reading Eighteenth Century WWE
If I had to choose between writing my own blog and reading others, I don’t think I could.
May 1990 Roger and his wife lay down in bed, snuggled together on the edge of sleep. “You know, Bree,” he said. “In all the years we’ve been marrit, we havena really had a honeymoon.” In answer, she rolled over on her stomach and leaned on her elbows, facing him. “That’s true, but there wasn’t… Continue reading The Honeymoon
In response to Does Writing Energize or Exhaust you?
After Livvy’s death, Ty kept to his room for weeks on end, paralyzed by grief. Of course, it was the room he’d shared with her, but at least he could feel she was there with him in spirit. Julian and Kit were the only ones he allowed in the room; they were the two people… Continue reading A Light in the Abyss
The Institute’s doorbell rang loud and clear; they could feel the vibrations throughout. The Blackthorns hadn’t been expecting anyone, so naturally everyone dropped what they were doing and crowded the foyer. Diana was about to open the door when Tavvy bolted in front of her. “I’ll get it!” he said, leaping for the ornate… Continue reading Finding a Family
Being married to John was different, to say the least. We had friendship, but even that seemed to be strained under the circumstances. I just couldn’t believe that Jamie was dead. It wasn’t that I was in denial; I didn’t know what to think. The morning was bright, sunlight streaming in through the bedroom windows… Continue reading An Eighteenth Century April Fool’s Day