She’s on trial for a crime. A situation out of control. A knife, the dark Two children at home. She struggles. Watch. Watch her. The juror checks his watch. His dinner waits. He hates her dress. Convict her. Convict her.
I like words. I do. As a freelance writer, I like finding fresh ways to deliver when people hire me to communicate to their target audience. But that’s not what this blog is about. Wheeeeee! This is just a delicious space for me to reveal some of my new and ancient word parties -that might never see the light of day otherwise- with you. Case in point: it might disturb you to know that I have a whole file full of titles. Yes, TITLES. Of novels, screenplays, children’s books and other such things. Things that I may never write. I walk down the street and ‘scroink!’ a title hits me in the face. Someone says something two tables over at a restaurant and I can’t help but scribble it down, thinking, damn, that’d be a great title for something. I promise you here and now this blog will not be a list of titles. I swear. I’m just saying that there’s some words in my satchel that I’ve been itching to share since I was a but a wee lass. (No I’m not from Ireland. But that’s not my fault.)Take a peek. If I could offer you a cup of tea and a really good piece of chocolate to savor along with my offerings, I would surely do so.
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