where the writers are

reflection | reflection

rebbecca-hill's picture
Oct.30.2009
It is a simple boat, with a wooden bottom, in the shape of a cradle, surrounded in royal blue trim and a bit of gold glitter. A great Oak grows out of the center, reaching its limbs out to the universe. As the boat floats effortlessly along the ocean, the waters shimmer, like dancing angels. They...
diane-chamberlain's picture
Sep.23.2009
During my twenty-eight years of writing, I’ve heard plenty of advice from other authors. One tidbit stands out: tighten the relationship between characters. I know exactly where (in Albert Zuckerman’s Writing the Blockbuster Novel) and when (1995, as I wrote Reflection) I read this suggestion. It’s...
rebbecca-hill's picture
Sep.09.2009
When I signed up for Asian American Literature, I knew it would be interesting. But I had no idea that a new world would unfold to me the way it did. I’ve become pickier about the classes I take, since I take them for pleasure. I like the structured learning environment of a “class”; but I also...
rebbecca-hill's picture
Sep.05.2009
It’s been a long time since I pulled a single card from the Tarot deck. I used to do a daily three-card spread each morning and record the cards I picked in a notebook and reflect upon them. The three-card spread is from Angeles Arrien’s, Tarot Handbook. Last night, I thought of a question where I...
rebbecca-hill's picture
Sep.03.2009
Where did he come from? A name dropped into consciousness upon reflection of that blue canvas, welcome eyes: Jeremiah Clancey Jones. Out of somewhere he came.   Contemplating the painting, Finished, yet unfinished like the rest, inspired hovered above the canvas on the floor, brush in hand,...
yuma-michaels's picture
Sep.01.2009
There is a pervasive grayish-orange aura today.  The sun’s way of trying to shine through, I suppose.  Hurrying to my upstairs window, camera in hand, I try to capture one of the tired, red helicopters, this one’s retardant apparatus dangling valiantly, though almost impotently against the vastness...
rebbecca-hill's picture
Aug.29.2009
Ideas and memories float out of somewhere like bubbles that a child tries to catch in the palm of her hand before they escape, before they disappear. Are the original thoughts that flitter in and out as important as what is expressed? Is what I’m obsessed with ultimately going to reach the page...
anovelweblog's picture
Aug.26.2009
Everyone called him “Red,” even though he had been bald since his early twenties. The nickname was from when he was a young man with flaming red hair, and it would be with him until the day he died in the nursing home, alone, in a bed with a stiff mattress and the thinnest sheets. I had not visited...
rebbecca-hill's picture
Aug.23.2009
Monday was the start of school for many. This semester, I am taking two online courses through the community college to feed my passion for learning through a flexible structure.  The online classroom has come a long way. I remember taking my first online class over a decade ago. I remember being...
rebbecca-hill's picture
Aug.21.2009
This morning I have Point Lobos on my mind. My boyfriend and I took a weekend trip to Monterey and Carmel in May and it was the first time that we had been to Point Lobos State Reserve, just a few miles south past Carmel. We started early that morning after a breakfast start at the famous Tuck Box...