How to See the Sun Rise

Pitch black.  As if it wasn't hard enough to find the exact olives he likes with the grocery fully lit.  She could hear the grumbling of the other customers, most of whom seemed caught off-guard by the impromptu darkness of the store.  Why they were surprised she didn't know.  The storm outside was a menacing one, threatening the power lines for the better part of the day.  Had she taken the extra ten minutes to go to the big grocery across town she would probably be basking in the borrowed light of backup generators.  Not here though.  But no matter, she didn't mind.  Kind of liked it actually.  It was like an adventure, and a welcome one at that.  Her list was an odd one, the product of haste and intertwining lives.  Toilet paper - already in the basket.  Hot sauce, vegetable oil, dog biscuits, cheddar cheese - New York Sharp, beer, canned pears, and bread.  Standing in the cereal aisle (for no apparent reason) she w...

I am scared of writing Fiction.  Terrified.  I confess this to you because I feel it may be a minor hiccup in writing my novel (see previous, previous post).  I liken it to singing in front of large groups of people and crossing non-suspension, medium height bridges.  for the love of God, child, run faster! Blogging is only sort of scary.  Sure, I am putting myself out there, but it's just me.  It's how I talk if I took an hour and a half to say three paragraphs and I got to edit each word.  It's pretty much just like hanging out if I was the only one who ever got to talk and my thoughts were the only ones that mattered.  Fun for all.  But Fiction.  Fiction is different.  Fiction is investing in the part of you that dares to dream and opening it up for all to judge.  Yipes.  Over the last several years I've scaled back on giving my dreams a voice.  It's tough times for hopes and wishes ...