Just when I thought I’d read every memoir there was to read about brain injury, another one dropped into my consciousness. This one, from 2012, is from a fellow Midwest author Louise Krug. Like me, she was featured in the #Midwessay series on Essay Daily. She explains so well what it is like to be Midwestern in her essay by describing all the things she does not say. Her book, Louise: Amended describes what happens after a cavernous angioma appears at the base of her brain and has surgery to remove it.
As a Midwesterner my whole life, I can’t tell you how excited I am about a series of essays appearing on Essay Daily Titled #MidwessayWriters from the Midwest have been contributing essays describing what the Midwest essay looks like in 2021.
I read a lot of memoirs. I read a lot of memoirs about people with diseases. But when I read Between Two Kingdoms: A Memoir of a Life Interrupted by Suleika Jaouad, I was still surprised that I was reading so much about a woman’s journey through cancer and not more about her actual journey after cancer.
Although 2020 has kept me away from loved ones more than usual, as a self-proclaimed writer, I still get the same question no matter how long it has been when I see one of my fans.
A little more than a week away from Christmas, it finally hit. The spirit. I propelled me as I drove from store to store looking for a tiny tree that I could place in my living room. I bought one of the half-sized trees last year when the fake tree I had seemed too much of a hassle and just too ugly to put up.
I recently had a chance to review What’s the Story? Building Blocks for Fiction Writing by Melissa Donovan. I know it sounds like hyperbole to say that this book has everything you need to know about writing, but it really covers a lot.
They say denial ain’t just a river, but 2020 has been flooded with it. From COVID debunkers to a president who won’t concede the election, 2020 is the crazy man at the podium who refuses to admit his hair dye is running down his temple.
When I was a kid, I loved Pippi Longstocking. I remember her being a bit eccentric and unconventional, but what I loved most about her was that she had red hair like me. I had no idea that these books were thirty years old when I was reading them, or that they were written by a Swedish woman, Astrid Lindgren, who was ever bit as unorthodox for her time as the character she created.
Is the pandemic a blip on the radar? Or will it have long-term lasting effects on the way we live? At a time when we can’t seem to agree on anything, it’s no surprise that we’re divided on predictions of how it will all pan out.
I haven’t been around here for a while. I’ve been busy doing this and that, and sometimes not much at all. But when a writer gets a gift, they have to take it. Today, I received one in the form of a writing prompt.