Life
Why isn't hardly anyone reading me?
I have been writing here on Vocal.media.com for the last five years, but a lot of time I still feel like a newbie. I have many subscribers even though it seems that they are not reading my work. I believe that my writing is readable and maybe enjoyable for some, but lately it seems that I am lucky enough to maybe get maybe four reads on most of my work. I know with what has occurred since the maintenance of Vocal things will take time to get back to 'normal' but even after that since I am a free account writer will I only be writing for myself and a few writer friends here.
By Mark Graham3 months ago in Writers
This Is What They Don't Get
They looked at me and said, "Don't you feel lonely, living in your own little world all the time?" And I didn't answer right away. Because it's not a little world to me. It's the only one where I can actually breathe. Where I don't have to explain myself or shrink just to be tolerated and where I can think without being corrected, rest without being judged, exist without always performing for someone else's comfort. So l looked back and said, "You mean the world where people pretend all day, where you say you're fine when you're not, where everything depends on being liked, accepted, approved? You think I should trade peace for that? I don't feel lonely in here. I feel safe. But maybe that's the part you don't understand, because you've spent so long adjusting yourself for everyone else, you forgot what it's like to just be."
By Annam M Gordon3 months ago in Writers
Notes At And On The End. Top Story - July 2026.
I find it to be the most utterly pretentious notion to contemplate who will be present at my funeral. After all, I’ll be dead, and you’ll be wasting your time looking at a portrait of me since, should my wishes actually be followed and not bastardized like the adaptation of The Hobbit was, my ashes will be tucked in the core of a tree somewhere. What a dreadful waste of time for all of us to assemble here, truly.
By Matthew J. Fromm3 months ago in Writers
The Woman Who Wrote What She Couldn't Say
When she died, she left behind almost nothing that suggested literary ambition. A rented apartment in Finland. A kettle stained by years of tea. Receipts folded into the pages of paperback novels. Three unfinished notebooks. Hundreds of customer service emails signed with impossible cheerfulness.
By Samara Pollyana 3 months ago in Writers
Goodbye to all that. Top Story - November 2025.
Being released from prison is something that ought to be celebrated. The end of a sentence, the end of captivity, the end of a regrettable time in anyone's life, should they have the misfortune and/or poor judgment, to have found themselves incarcerated. Job done, the price paid, all square with The House (to quote a line from the movie: The Green Mile).
By Raymond G Taylor3 months ago in Writers
Talking Hearts
Author's Note: I said yes, 26 years ago. We have been married 21 years, engaged 22 years ago. When we met, he had a 14-year-old daughter, and I had just finished raising 3 teens. All out of the home and on their own. His baby is 40 now. Talking Hearts cards - Couples edition prompts: Have you changed your mind about anything recently? What in our lives is having its golden age now?
By Denise E Lindquist3 months ago in Writers
POST-MORTEM REPORT: THE LITERARY REMAINS OF QUINN
POST-MORTEM REPORT: THE LITERARY REMAINS OF TEENA QUINN Name of Subject: Teena Quinn Known Aliases: Counsellor, writer, rural woman, blind woman, difficult woman, funny woman, woman who made tea during emergencies, woman who conversed with God, woman followed by an invisible elephant with the loyal determination of a chicken called Huxley.
By Teena Quinn 3 months ago in Writers
