WanderingScribe

Feb, 2006. For the past five months I have been living in a car at the edge of woods — jobless and homeless and totally unable to find a way out. I can't sing, I can't dance, I can't scream loudly enough, but I can read and write. So here I am laying down tracks...hopefully the start of an online paper trail out of here. (Update: Miracles happen....if you are reading my story I am part of your proof.)

Sunday, November 11, 2007

Remembrace Sunday (Will it always be like this?)

The paperback being out has unsettled me. I feel like layers have been peeled away from me again. I feel all at sea. Today I felt that most of my strength during the writing of the book and after had been pretense, really. It's just that I hadn't tested it so much. When does the pretense become real? When do you walk out of the house in the morning with your head held high and your shoulders back and feel that the ground is firm under your feet?

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