Reading. Writing. Me.
Today, I went to the movies. I went alone. I bought my ticket online and had the lady at the ticket counter help me figure out how to retrieve it. I bought myself popcorn and a cherry coke. I sat alone through an intense 2-hour movie. I drove myself to the theater and back. I... Continue Reading →
One area in my life that I've been pushing myself to improve is my total lack of social skills. I am an introvert almost to the extreme, and often find myself content with no other company than my few closest friends. Building new relationships is excessively difficult for me. I think one of the reasons... Continue Reading →
Brave art is beautiful art. My husband reminded me of this after I bemoaned the increasing number personal elements that seem to be creeping their way into the short story I'm handing in for my Fiction Writing class. About an hour ago, I finished my third draft and had so much of my own self and struggles leaking... Continue Reading →
After months and months of nerve induced procrastination, I have officially sent out my first query letters for Us. I sent them out last week. My husband wrapped his arms around me, we counted down, and clicked the send button together. Sharon was a major help to me that day, sending me constructive criticism on... Continue Reading →
Flushed from my successful six-hour road trip to Williamsburg, I decided to tackle the next fear on my list, driving alone. I used to be able to drive by myself for an hour, so that's all I'm really shooting for. I figure an hour is enough to get me to my parents house or to visit the friends... Continue Reading →
A few weeks ago, I posted about my struggle with anxiety disorder and depression. After which, I mentioned how I’ve been pushing my boundaries, forcing myself to stand against the things that most frighten me On this list is the gradual expansion of my forty-five minute radius safety bubble. I was sitting at about two and a half hours when my in-laws invited... Continue Reading →
Growing up, my mother used to tell me stories about people who went on nature walks. They usually ended with small children huddled together against the cold in an abandoned car, while the parent wandered boldly to his death in the mountains, searching for help. These stories were probably meant to instruct me to make... Continue Reading →
R. C. Svendsen 