The trip was a series of battalion assaults, unimaginable outside of a science fiction novel. TSA men hid behind large plexiglass partitions, gloved, masked, instructing us to wave our government issued ID’s at magic scanners, reading a report on me, no need for a boarding pass.
And so naturally I wonder, how can she be our most supreme judge, our arbiter and keeper of our Constitution, if it is not she–handmaiden to men—who ultimately decides?
I prayed for the phone to ring, an appointment to show, any excuse.
Are you okay, we ask? I’m okay, we answer.
This magical island retreat hums with the history of writer’s voices.
Wait, wait, wait, I wanted to say. Give me a second while I find my intelligence. I don’t know what to do!
Can you trace your journey? Look back into the blue sky and catch a glimpse of your tendrils, instead of Continue reading
Going to Mendocino—taking my first screenwriting class, reading my work in front of 100+ people, hearing my novel first page blind critiqued by an industry panel, yup—terrifying and frigging exhilarating!
