Yesterday I got my draft of Sally off to my beta readers. When I got to the end and read the last couple of sentences a chill went up my spine and I had an emotional release. I think that’s a good sign. Sally was born into slavery in 1858. She died at 110 on March 31,Continue reading “Feeling Lighter”
I keep working on the cover for the book I haven’t completed yet. Hopefully by summer.
Since the latest NaNoWriMo I’ve been working on “Sally,” a fictional account of a woman I met when I was eight. She was 103 at the time. She died in March 1969 at age 110. Her story begins, or how I’m relating it, begins with a woman named Elizabeth Dickenson who lived on a SouthernContinue reading “Synchronicity Showing Up in Writing”
I started exploring Sally’s life nearly a decade ago. Although, it will be a work of fiction, I’m finally writing about her.
Yesterday’s post was about cherries. Today, it’s about blackberries. This weekend we used the last of our frozen blackberries, blackberries that were picked from our farm. We have an abundance of wild blackberries. Blackberry picking is hard work. Plus, the trick is getting to them at just the right time. There is that moment ofContinue reading “Last of the Blackberries”
On most days except for Sunday, it was ritual for Sally at break of first light, hoe in hand, bonnet on her head wearing her usual long flowing faded and threadbare dress, to make her way towards the riverbank where the garden lay. People knew this to be fact even though it was rare forContinue reading “Garden Meditation”
(This is about my first encounter with a person of color. I thought it fitting that I should post this during the time we celebrate the life of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Sally lived from 1858 until 1969.) Sometime around my eighth birthday was when I first encountered the presence of Sally. LongContinue reading “The Day I Met Sally – She Had Been A Slave”