The Angel


Can you call yourself a creative writer if you have not written a word in months? I have a friend who promotes 20 minutes of writing per day, telling people to just write, forget quality, just write. Really?! I care about quality. Perhaps too much? I make sure to read quality writing 99.99% of the time. Is this just words I am writing here or is it quality or garbage? You tell me!

One thing I can do is read. I’m good at reading. And singing. And gardening. I talk to plants; that’s why they grow for me. I truly care. They bring me peace and joy.

In the last two months, I’ve read three collections of short stories, two by Anthony Doerr and one by Gayle Jones. Normally, I am not a short story reader, but here I am reading these. Talk about different. It’s almost like these two famous writers inhabit different planets. Doerr’s stories seem intensely emotional, often a bit fantastical and heart wrenching with a lush, descriptive, poetic style even though Doerr is not a published poet. Jones is a published poet, yet her stories are blunt, conversational, often first person and sometimes short–one page short.

In many, a character is telling his or her (most of the stories are her) story about where they are, some experience, somebody they knew, what they did or said. In one story the narrator says she’s an angel, explains where she’s been, whom she’s known, and ends up by asking readers if they’ve seen her near the Seine. I doubt anyone mistakes me for an angel.

Note: Book 13 for 2025 is “Butter”, Gayle Jones. A collection of short stories.

Publication!


A writing colleague posted this on her blog today. It expresses so much of what I feel about so many things that I just had to reblog it. As soon as I finish this reblog, I am going to look for one of these statues for myself. Here’s to a fabulous today and a creative, adventurous future.

lenleatherwood's avatar20 Minutes a Day

I am pleased to report that my flash fiction piece, “A Brother’s Gift” has been accepted for publication at the Provo Canyon Review, a print literary journal. I am especially pleased about this because I rather impulsively submitted it when I saw the Provo Canyon Review’s Call for Submissions. This is a very short piece, but the editors said they liked the tone and also thought it was “A refreshing and moving look at grief and the true emotional impact of such a loss.”

I am happy. Here it is in case you missed it first time round.

A Brother’s Gift

Mary Lou Holder sank down next to her brother, the one who was dying of cancer, and started pulling on the bright red bow of the gift he had just handed her. “This is sweet, Jake, that you’ve gotten me a present. You know you didn’t have to…”

Jacob…

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