Scribbles

March 15, 2017 Scribble

I spent twenty minutes holding my head to the right as a doctor went in again for my fourth thyroid biopsy. “Boy this is really deep,” he said. “Yep, maybe you’ll be the guy,” I said. It is clear with have a nodule or two. We don’t clearly know if it is cancer. “At least if it is cancer, this is the best one to get,” said my endocrinologist. “It takes so long to grow.” Comforting.…

Continue reading

My Craft

Driving Back from Spring Break

[aesop_image imgwidth=”500px” img=”https://wordsmithholler.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/11/bokeh-1033539_1920.jpg” credit=”Pixabay” align=”right” lightbox=”on” captionposition=”left” revealfx=”off”] Three days earlier I studied all night with a girlfriend for a physics exam and afterward drove four classmates 12 hours to San Diego for spring break. The entire trip the girls giggled and cackled behind me while a Korean kid sat silent up front. I decided we scared Jae. Although, being a confused immigrant might also explain his silence. Either way, he only said thanks when I dropped him off…

Continue reading

On Writing

Pantser Plotter

There are two camps of thought: the people who listen to the muse and write by the seat of their pants and the people who write an entire book-length outline prior to starting to write. I prefer to combine the two, without writing an entire book-length outline. Let me explain my thoughts on this debate. Pantsers argue they are free to listen to the story and the characters. It is a muse-centric approach, with the…

Continue reading

My Craft

A Simple Mistake

It had happened again. And he feared the result. A near miss or a slip up and the entire room was questioning his ability. More than 30 years doing this job. And yet, he wondered if he really understood how to do it. The mistake had happened almost as soon as he made the decision to move forward. A reaction timed wrongly, and if it had not been noticed, he might have been able to…

Continue reading

My Craft

On the Path from Small to Large

Small. Brownie Cottage. 300 square feet. Enough room to sit. And maybe spin all around. The size of a gingerbread doghouse. If the dog was a small mastiff. A big dog with a very large appetite. With no place to store the dog food bags. The minimalists say we all could stand to slim down. That our mega mansions, stuff, and stacks of books signify waste. But the very thought of living in a one-room…

Continue reading

On Writing

Making Time

I dislike the gym. I do not have a gym membership and the thought of exercise sends me back to the couch. I like the couch. It is safer and never leads to a pulled back muscle. Of course, I could use some stretching of my back muscles. Writing – the actual practice of sitting down and writing – has never been a problem. I mean, the actual knocking out of words. The words flow…

Continue reading

My Craft My Favorites

A Ghost Story – Ghosts Wished People Believed

A few of the residents believed they lived in a haunted house. To the ghosts, it seemed unlikely anyone believed. They bumped into the living without the slightest notice. Sometimes they made a sudden movement to remind each other they were still around. They bounced among the residents coloring happy memories or darkening deep regrets. Never had they sparked passion in the hearts of the living. The ghosts wished people believed.   Tommy woke from…

Continue reading