Sun: light, glare, heat, crisp
Butterflies dancing, gleeful
Does not feel like fall
Sometime in 2014, I wrote a book.
It was not great nor was it moderately okay but it was 400 pages of my dreams and hopes. It was mine. I got feedback saying that it needed work. I edited, sent it out in the world, and the rejection letters, deservingly, came pouring in.
I wanted to burn the bridge so that I could not scramble across it and get lost, ever again, in between the slopes of my imagination.
chasing that creative spark that sets everything in motion...