Now that we’re coming out of lockdown, winter, whatever it is we all went through, we can get on with life.
Now things will go right. We’ll buckle down, move on, pick up the pieces, and get going again.
All it will take is this one thing and all will be well. It might be a shot, a move, a marriage, a divorce, but whatever it is, it is huge. It may be hard. …
“If Rob Hart hadn’t dared me, I wouldn’t have done it. He always used to say: do what you want but don’t get caught. If he wasn’t in prison, he’d be here at my launch party.” Ginny giggled and drained her glass. She signaled for more champagne.
“Rob Hart? How is he connected with your product launch?” Amory’s journalist heart stopped. Buried in Ginny’s blather was an incredible story.
“He’s not. Robbie never had anything to do with my company.” Ginny waved to a fresh wave of well-dressed influencers. …
It’s hard to write when tears are streaming down your cheeks. And splashing onto your notebook, smearing the ink. Or stabbing the keyboard, hunting and hoping that the snot and tears don’t kill your laptop.
I’ve done it both ways — trying to get the words down and out of my broken heart.
It’s really hard, but it’s the only thing that makes me feel better, like I can take a breath, take that huge step back everyone says will help and occasionally does.
So, here I am, watering my notebook because my laptop is too far away. It’s only…
It wasn’t the right time.
Not now. Not ever.
Truth would happily admit it never would be the right time
To follow that lead, to tug on that loose thread and see where it took me.
Because of all the things ever so much more essential, valued, important
(Even when they are nowhere near as interesting, juicy, and fun.
Fun hangs in the balance, an unclaimed orphan enjoyment of being alive. …
Your goal shimmers in the distance.
Your mission, your entire purpose, and your reason for being are to achieve that goal.
It’s going to take everything you have: heart, soul, sinew, and muscle. It will challenge you to the core, mock you when you fall, and stand arms-folded over you when you’re panting on the ground.
That shimmering goal is not impossible. Others have reached it — and an exceptional group have ventured beyond and achieved even more impossible feats.
You’re the only one who can’t make it.
The bossy chatter in your brain never stops. You’re too old, too…
Hilary strode from AI Enterprises R&D between burly security guards.
The researchers kept their heads down, not willing to risk being fired.
Karl peered through his office blinds. That morning, she’d nuzzled into his neck, “You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone.” Passion overrode questions.
Hilary’s Miata convertible roared from AI Enterprises’ parking lot. With her left everything that made this sweatshop bearable: her wild sense of humor, passion for country western music, and bold, genius solutions to impossible problems.
Did he hear singing?
Singing was not sanctioned.
The walls shook as new voices joined.
Karl charged into the hallway…
Writes "A snapshot in time we can all relate to - with a twist." Novelist, marketer, business story teller, new product imaginer…