But you already knew that, didn’t you? Here’s what The Review Review said about my story “Anchor” which was published in edition 190 of The Antigonish Review or TAR as it is sometimes called.
TARs current edition – 191 – is entirely digital and they’re archiving all their previous journals. When 190 is up, I’ll let you know. I’d love for you to read the story, especially those of you who followed the saga of Harry Bittercress and Lady Smock. “Anchor” branches into the story of Rose Laine and her boyfriend, Derrick Fudge, told from the point of view of Rose’s mother, a recovering alcoholic.
Blogging made this story possible. The series about Lady Smock and Harry Bittercress sprung from another blogger’s post (A Tramp in the Woods) about wildflowers he encountered on his rambles in the New Forest in England. Harry Bittercress is a weed and Lady Smock, commonly known as a cuckoo flower, is a dainty pink, hairless perennial found mostly in Europe and Western Asia.
Thank you, fellow bloggers, for the daily inspiration and for launching my fiction writing.
With love and gratitude,
Pens attract me like a white shirt attracts coffee. I love the click, that satisfying sound the pen emits when you press the button to make the tip of the ink cartridge drop out of the barrel. I cock my head, right ear tilted upward, eyes to heaven, finger poised on the clicker waiting Continue reading
By Susanne Fletcher On the cusp of 60 years old, I ran away to Baja California Sur, Mexico to let my heart bloom. I needed to escape–at least briefly–37 years of marriage, 35 years of office work, and 22 years of motherhood, to reclaim an old dream, so I signed on to a writing retreat, […]
via Heart Restart — BREVITY’s Nonfiction Blog
I’m back in grade six, in Mrs. Mackenzie’s class, middle row, middle desk, working with a vocabulary list and writing stories and this is practice – that’s all. I’m picking up where I left off 46 years ago when I stopped making stuff up and started reading boys instead. I spent way too much time as a teenager trying to figure out the opposite sex and find myself four decades later not much wiser in that regard. I might as well return to fiction. It’s probably better for my brain plus I can make the boys do what I want. Continue reading