Skip to main content

Betrayal Has Many Faces

 Trying to set aside some time every day to write.

Today has been…. Not ideal. 

Seems there is always something in the way; laundry to take care of, dishes piled into the sink, tiny humans demanding lunch, games to play. 

Still though, got in enough stolen time to put some work in. 

I’ve been struggling with this story I’m writing - it’s about finding yourself and being true to yourself. My main character is fighting to find herself. She’d been raised and groomed for taking on her mother’s ideals and lifestyle, but she finds herself wondering why and wanting nothing more than to break away. That wish is becoming a reality, but not the one she hoped for. 

Isn’t that the harsh reality of dreams, that they never seem to take the shape you pictured? 

She’s facing the first of many uphill battles, picking up a team of support along the way. But, of course, not everyone is as they seem and some people only look out for themselves. 


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Summers Past and Futures Claimed

The old farmhouse I grew up in is long gone. Torn down for the sake of progress, as a new highway cuts a path of connection and commerce through the heart of it.  I remember it as a simple home, not anything impressive or grand, like the new trendy farmhouses you see on Pinterest or the like. No, there were no marble counter tops, not vaulted ceilings with exposed beams. No gleaming hardwood floors polished to high shine, no white walls, and no large laundry rooms with built-in dog wash sinks.  It was a simple home, two bedrooms down stairs, one bedroom up stairs; a single bathroom to service the whole home, and one large storage/playroom area up stairs. A well used and lived in kitchen, with tiny panty area and fold away doors to hide the washer and drier. Built by my great-grandfather many years ago and a testament to the love and care he had for his family. The home was old enough that there was a phone nook in the tiny hall way; I vaguely remember my mother having the...

The Pursuit of Knowledge

 I made a starling realization about myself earlier, while reading.  I miss making study guides and learning.  I don’t feel the need or even have the true want to enroll in classes or study anything with the intent to enter that field, but I still miss that feeling of going to class and learning something new. The glide of pen along pager as a professor lectures about this or that. The turning of pages as you research some idea or plot point. The typing of ideas within a group study session or the smell of the library as you wonder the many isles.  That’s what I miss.