Confessions of a non-writing writer

The idea of starting my own “writing rituals” never occurred to me until recently, but I’ve been able to think of little else since it did. I have always had a few reading rituals, especially on rainy or wintery days…or whenever in the year I decided to return once more to the chill but happy comforts of Jane Eyre or Little Women or Anne of Green Gables. Continue reading “Confessions of a non-writing writer”

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Why I wrote, and why I write.

211302643_3d7e3df154When I was ten, I got my first diary as a Christmas present. It had a lock, but it was no problem to open the journal without the key. Turns out this was good, because soon enough the key had vanished, probably stolen by my brother or swallowed by the dog. I kept writing in the little purple diary for months, regardless. Continue reading “Why I wrote, and why I write.”