Author | Editor | Freelance
am tuning in to the rhythm of my own creative process. I am learning character from Hemingway and style from Didion, delving into wildness with cheryl strayed and sitting peacefully on the fences of British churchyards with Bill Bryson. I am asking myself the traveller’s questions of Pico Iyer and am suddenly indebted to Flannery O’Connor and Eudora Welty for their courage and bravery to get up every morning and write.
I prance around my kitchen, dancing to my loud, wild drum beats. The six year old is at the neighbor’s and the husband’s out for a drink. I inhale deeply, breathing it in. Life.
As Prince Edward Island welcomed its first rays of warm summer, ripe red strawberries, and car loads of families and travelers waiting for a glimpse of our famous Anne of Green Gables, I trotted off expectantly to Montpelier Vermont, and to my first Master’s writing residency at Vermont College of Fine Arts.
I know that as a writer, I’m not supposed to obsess about publishing. I’m supposed to put my head down and keep writing, and never to get discouraged when the rejection letters come.
Hey FurtherMo fans!
As the blog is officially one and a half years old, I have decided to upgrade to an actual DOMAIN! I know, it’s unheard of. I know you’re all thinking, what’s next for the blog, is she going get to get a cookbook and cook every single thing in it, posting her creations each day? Or will she learn how to knit scarves so she can report?
I see one coming! hold on tight!
we’ll reach it Leila, be alright!
Noodles swish I drop my lunch
there go the chopsticks off my bunch
here! we’re here, please stop for us!
he’s pulling over, Lei, enough!
Fall is a magical time for children and adults, with transforming leaves, cozy sweaters and hot cups of tea outside in the evening. Along the side of the road, the pumpkin patch calls, as do the apple trees, the carrots, and our small (but loyal) plot of potatoes. It is a time of harvest.
Oh glorious summer! You’re slipping away so quickly. Thanks for the great times, Summer, for keeping the sun worshiping, south shore ocean dipping, lobster cracking, oyster shucking soul in me forever blessed by your sandy toes and your smoky barbeques.
So i’ve ripped and i’ve torn it , shaped it and , formed it ~ and for the moment, I’ve finished my memoir.
Whew! Twenty months of writing, eight months of revising and a pile of edits and rewrites have finally gotten me to this most critical stage: Querying.
Mo Duffy Cobb 