After two years, I’m starting to get disciplined about my writing again. I need a focused way to scream my thoughts onto pages besides journaling, which I’ll admit I’ve even been too depressed or scattered or numb or too teary to write in some days. I haven’t met you, Dorothy Rice, but I know we’d get along! Your words speak my heart, too. Thank you.
To my readers …. enjoy! xo
by Dorothy Rice
It’s Spring 2022, over two years since life was transformed by a global pandemic. Meetings, appointments, and vacations cancelled. Professional obligations and expectations suspended. My longest stretch of workaday limbo, aside from three maternity leaves.
“I think we should stay away for a while. You’re in that vulnerable age group,” my son said, over the phone during the initial quarantine. “We can’t risk anything happening to you.” Which meant no son, no grandkids, for weeks that became months.
I had unscheduled time. Every writer’s dream. I might have completed that memoir, tackled my moldering list of essays, made progress on the middle grade novel begun as a break from the navel gazing of personal writing. But my thoughts were unfocused, too diffuse to distil into coherent sentences.
I excavated closets and cupboards, arrayed the leavings of five grown children and my recently deceased mother on the dining…
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Inspirations from Wake and Sea 