The Buck – Susanna Rich

When I was ten, Grandmother told me to get her stuffed when she died like the buck head by the door catching webs of evil in his antlers.   She was to be seated in the living room on the sofa (or chair, our choice), facing the piano where I would play Brahms, Liszt and Chopin.   Her eyes were to be open (maybe a…

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Oh Writer’s Voice – Why Don’t You …?

Since I was introduced to the juicy writing prompts Laura Davis posts weekly on The Writer’s Journey website, I’m in writing prompt heaven. They stir up my creative juices, as they did again today. Describe what writing practice is to you. My first inclination?  To scribble down “torture.” Because there are times it feels like that. Stepping on a nail.  Painful. Hard. Bloody. After I…

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