It’s my last night in Rome, and I am back at the beginning. The feeling that at any moment my grief will suffocate me. I am having difficulty swallowing. The inside of my mouth feels as if it were on fire. She was alive. And then she wasn’t. What does that even mean? What does… Read More How do you measure a life?
I have discovered a whole new world of memoirs written by women about grief. I’m reading Simone de Beauvoir’s short, intense, and harrowing memoir A Very Easy Death, where she recounts in vivid detail the few weeks from the moment her mother fell in the bathroom, breaking her hipbone, through her hospitalization and discovery of… Read More A Very Easy Death
Rome, I have come to feel you, like home. Your streets, now yet unfamiliar to my feet. The room in which I sit to write down my grief – a library of books in this, Italian language, a white spacious desk with stacked books in both corners to deliver comfort, a soft green easy chair.… Read More Grief in Rome
I am happy to share with you that “Meanwhile, on the Train,” a short story I wrote, has been published by the Creative Arts Journal Verity La. You can read the story at the following link: Meanwhile, on the Train. I would love to hear your thoughts after you read it. One reader wrote me… Read More Meanwhile, on the Train – short story
The mind works in mysterious ways. Last week, I was thinking about how social media is enabling us to share our most fragile moments; specifically, I was thinking about how girls and women are increasingly sharing personal thoughts coping and living with mental health issues and PTSD, exposing their raw scars and their fragile souls.… Read More the mind works in mysterious ways
Today I’m writing you – excited – to invite you to embark on a journey of creative writing with me. So what’s this creative journey all about and what will you get out of it? As every writer, I often struggle with my writing. I find myself staring at a blank notebook or a blank… Read More Invitation to Weekend Creative Writing Journey
The Big City I am five years old. It’s summer. We live at the edge of Senec, a small town, only a half an hour drive from the big city of Bratislava. Senec is so small there is no public transportation inside the town. There is only one bus station; the bus takes adult people… Read More an exercise in capturing memories
