Many years ago, when my eldest was a toddler, I stumbled upon a cute little picture book in the local library called, Don’t Let The Pigeon Drive The Bus. The illustrations were cute, each page only had a few words making it an easy read while managing a newborn at the same time. So, I grabbed it along with all the books my son had picked out himself. What I didn’t expect was having so much fun reading the book…
There are very few things that fill my family with terror, but I’m slightly ashamed that the top two things that send my family scattering are: me. Yes, me. Like when I’m making mayonnaise. Specifically the vegan mayo that swears it’s perfect and works and– Look, let’s not get too close to the details quite yet, let’s just be honest here. When my kids hear me say, “Hey can you grab me a can of chickpeas?” They run. Fast. One…
“Where have you been?” I hear it distinctly said in Mrs Weasley’s voice, do you? The high shrill, the extra emphasis on have, the terror her voice evoked as her boy’s avoided looking directly at her. I’ve had that very quote running through my head for weeks now. Life has been crazy, and I’ve not been writing much on this little corner of the web. It’s not that crazy and unusual things aren’t happening, oh they are. I mean, today…
There’s a direct correlation between reading and writing for me. What does that mean, you ask? Simply put, the more I read, the more I write. Even if I read a book I absolutely could not stand, I can often get to the end and say, “Wow I really liked the way the author…” I’m always on the lookout for clever ways authors worked in various techniques. Ways that they spin old stories to make them fresh and new. And…