It’s a zeugma!!
This is a real word and it describes something I do with my writing. Here’s the definition: The use of a word to refer to two or more words, especially in different senses. Examples: “He caught a fish and a cold” or “She lost her ring and her temper.” (courtesy of Anu Garg of A.Word.A.Day,...
As most of you know, three agents are currently reading the revised manuscript of Train Trip: Lucinda Mae’s Quest for Love, Honor, and the Chickens.
Whatever bad luck I’ve been having, I’ve taken care of it.
We went to the Island of Salvation Botanica and Magical Pharmacy in the Healing Center and bought cures.
First, I figure the spirits have been mad at me because I’ve got all kinds of Day of the Dead creatures
But what was I lacking? A Spirit Dog!
Last night, I found a dangerous book lurking in the boy’s bedroom. It’s easy for a book to lurk in his room. He has four shelves of books. Plus, he squirrels books away in his bunk bed. And stacks them on the floor. Except for trucks, the boy probably has more books than anything else in his room. And costumes—he lives in New Orleans...
I knew him as a willing orator. At any given Memphis School for Servant Leadership gathering, he might rise and recite one of Dr. Martin Luther King’s speeches. “Recite” is too tame a word. He would perform the speeches. From memory, without notes, with passion. I knew him as a part of the life of the school. I was quite taken...
I’m sitting here in a cast-off/picked-up shirt, and it reminded me of this story about another cast-off/picked-up shirt. This essay might have run in Strut! Magazine, I can’t remember. In any event, I’m sharing it again:
The Mysterious Shirt
My sister gave me this shirt. At the time, she was living in my basement. I told everyone...
So I went outside today for the first time in four days. I know it’s been four days because my husband said, “Do you realize I’ve been taking this dog out every time for four days?” The only reason I went outside today is because my husband’s comment led me to conclude that if I didn’t get my butt off the futon...
My three-year-old grandson handed me a book to read. He found the book in the drawer of the beach house this past week (later, he would ask me, “What’s a beach house?). The title of the book was “When Do Fish Sleep?” Narrating our activity, as is my want, I said, “I hope this book isn’t rhetorical—I don’t...
People I care about are leaving this world.
I want to honor them with the life I live. I’m not talking about being a good person or doing a lot of charity work or taking on causes or achieving anything at all.
I’m talking about incorporating into my life what I loved in theirs.
It is amazing how many times death has implanted motivation...