Stream of Consciousness
A reminder to me on my recent achievement
Life has its ways of teaching you important lessons. Everything that happens in our existence strides its convoluted intersectionality with a purpose, a purpose that in its divinity has an impactful metamorphosis in our reality. How little do we know about what is about to come when we so confoundingly announce that I know this is how my life would turn out to be. In its own magnanimous and unexpected ways, you would get to what you deserve rather than what you want in most anomalies that our choices create. Whether we get what we want or face a delay or rejection, every event is a rendered outcome of the myriad of choices we chose and how divine intervention in its beauty shielded us from the things that could have destroyed us.
By Hridya Sharmaabout 2 hours ago in Writers
My Expectations And Responsibilities As A Writer
A while back, I wrote an article about my expectations as a writer of my readers. Today, I got the idea that it might be smart, to let my readers know that I'm not just holding them accountable. Out of everyone I hold the most responsibility for my success as a writer.
By Hope Martina day ago in Writers
Mother Stone
It was an autumn morning and I found one. There have been so many passing along the ground that it’s hard to remember which day I found this one among the myriad, but it was autumn because I remember the leaves turning. My mother stone. She collected them to paint, some to keep and some to leave, always the same shape but sometimes different sizes. They found me regardless of my looking or not. I never collected them; they were better left untouched or for someone else to see. Touchstones across the world each a kind word from my mother destined to brighten the day of an unknowing soul, at least that’s what I thought they were. But it was autumn when the leaves began to change to their brilliant warm hues and trails of steam rose from my warm cup of coffee as I sorted through my packed belongings. Staring at it through the steam of my coffee brought me back to the flight deck of a naval carrier, its steam pouring through the cracks making it hard to see the small rock with painted-on hotdogs and pizza she’d sent me among other gifts. The heat, the sweat, the loneliness, the exhaustion all rushed back. The unpainted stone rests in my hands.
By Keb Rogers3 days ago in Writers
Would a Sword Be Stronger Than My Pen?
This piece is dedicated to Francisco Iglesias on Medium. He and I had such a healthy conversation, and we challenged ourselves to write an article like this one each. I'm so glad he gave me his time with our conversation, and I hope that I've helped inspire him in some way.
By Hope Martin5 days ago in Writers
Can You Do It?
Introduction It may sound unbelievable, but there are many times when I feel that I am unable to write. At the moment I am writing another story for the Vocal L*pogram Challenge partially because it really is a true challenge, or that is how I see it.
By Mike Singleton 🌜 Mikeydred 🌛5 days ago in Writers