Wild Mushrooms and My Memoir

I attended the annual Printer’s Row Lit Fest in Chicago this past weekend. Since I started writing over 10 years ago, I have been driving the 45 minute trip in June to the city to walk five blocks, on Dearborn, from Congress to Polk. My only driving force to visit the Fest at that time was to check out small [...]

I Buried the Lead

I am a writer. I have a degree in Journalism. I learned a couple of things during my college journalism classes. The first was that I was not going to be a reporter. I did not have a knack, let alone a desire to be a fact seeker and then report on whatever the news was. I’m not good at [...]

Writing – Hobby or Job?

The truth can sting like a bee to a warm, plump thigh. When a “shark” from TV’s Shark Tank bluntly tells the contestant, “This is a hobby, and not a business,” a fight or flight switches on. Either anger ignites his checks to red or he cowers in admittance that maybe the “shark” is correct. There is much conversation about [...]

2015-04-06T20:27:05+00:00April 6, 2015|Categories: book writing, manuscript, memoir, writers, Writing|Tags: , , , , |

Under the Birch Tree-Broken Circle

On the weekends, sitting in the den was not required before dinner like weekdays. Before dinner during the week, Timmy and I were required to remain seated until Dad got home from work, went to the bathroom to wash up, replacing a lingering work smell with the odor of a very dry vodka martini and a lit Tareyton cigarette. Timmy [...]

Undeveloped and straying?

So here I have it, 66,000 plus words orchestrated to show my life experiences, baring my soul and sharing my bumpy journey through the years, my memoir. I have witnessed its transformation from 75,000 words in tones of discontent, wonderment, resentment, with some anger and perhaps sadness thrown in there for drama’s sake whittled to an essence of bare minimum, [...]

Home Cooking

Timmy and I never felt neglected when it came to the availability of food. Mom believed preparing three meals a day to be one of her many housewife duties. Watching Julia Child on television was as regular a practice as going to Mass on Saturday nights. “This is not how it turned out for Julia,” she’d say hunched over the [...]

A summer passing

It is with the recent passing of the autumnal equinox when I remembered the highest of my summer days. Maybe it is in the passing of one time to another, from season to season, from the end of a year to a new one when I can’t quite yet be excited about what is to come until I have reflected [...]

2014-09-24T20:31:14+00:00September 24, 2014|Categories: memoir, spiritual writing, Writing|Tags: , , , , , |

from Under the Birch Tree

Some here say to just wait a few minutes and the weather could change in an instant. There’s nothing quite like the seasons in Chicago. Some inhabitants surrender to the intolerance, moving elsewhere, shaking their heads. Not me, though. The seasons in Chicago are like yin and yang, or the Cubs and Sox, the Bears and Packers, the Mayor and [...]

2014-09-09T19:07:37+00:00September 9, 2014|Categories: book writing, home, memoir|Tags: , , , , |

my week of nations

You never know who you’re gonna meet once you start talking to him or her. My week was looking like a travelogue of nations united. Megan is my go-to person for all things related to painting fingernails and toes. I paid her a visit one Monday morning. We got to talking about business, customers, how long she’d been there. She [...]

2014-08-11T18:47:32+00:00August 11, 2014|Categories: creative nonfiction, home, memoir, writers, Writing|Tags: , , , , |
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