Writing Spaces

Recently, my friend and I, being the nosy people we are, attended an open house at a historic home for sale in our town. There was a room in that house that would make the perfect writing room.

I managed to snap a crappy picture of it with my phone.


The room was bright and airy, looking out on the well-kept garden. It was a soothing place and left me wishing I had $180k and the desire to settle down.

Currently, I write slouched down on my couch amidst the clutter I haven’t picked up in weeks. This beautiful, decluttered room makes me long for a dedicated writing room.

Where do you like to write?

Book Giveaway!

I’m clearing out some old books that I’ll probably never read again, so I thought it would be a perfect time for a giveaway! They are all in good condition and come from a smoke- and pet-free home (in case that’s a concern for anyone).

Round 1: Game of Thrones books 1-4, paperbacks


The Rules:

Following me isn’t necessary, but it would be nice!

Ends 8/1/15 at noon EST.

To enter, comment on this post and tell me about your favorite book(s)!

U.S. only. (I’m sorry! Maybe in the future I’ll be able to do an international giveaway.)

Please leave an easy way to get in touch with you. You’ll have 24 hours to respond to me with your address or I will pick another winner.

I will use random.org to choose a random winner.

The Void


Photo by Lisa

Silence lives on the other side of the door where the Other Family dwells. No one believes me when I tell them people live there.

“That’s just the pantry,” they laugh and open the door to show shelves full of cans and vegetables. “There’s no one living in there.”

But I know the truth. Every time I go past, light leaks around the outside of the door. I place my ear to the rough wood, hands splayed out in front of me as I balance myself, and try not to get splinters. There is nothing to hear. Not the comforting murmur of adults or the laughter of children.

There is nothing but the brilliant white void that leaks around the door. Vast, blank, and deafening.

My love is like a jellyfish


Photo by Lisa

“My love is like a jellyfish,” I told him. We stood watching them undulate around their saltwater tank.

“That’s stupid,” he said.

He turned to smile at me. An attempt at lessening the rudeness of his words, but they did not hurt me. I smiled back to show him I was not hurt.

As we moved through the aquarium, he kept asking if my love was like an otter. Or a turtle. Or a minnow. I sighed and grinned with forced patience and told him each time that, no; my love is like a jellyfish.

One day, when I break his heart with stinging words and leave him crying in the space we once shared peacefully, he will understand what I meant. Until that day comes, and it comes sooner with each inane question he asks, our love will be as soft and beautiful as a jellyfish in motion.