It’s cold at night in Nevada, and the day peaks at around 65—ideal weather for travel.
After passing Texas and New Mexico, the friend and family circle became sparse, and I’ve found myself alone for longer stints. Which, honestly, is wonderful, because it’s created space for what I’ve been craving most: writing.
Man, have I been writing.
Please do click on the links and read the three short stories that have been published on Vocal. If you only read one, read the first one.
To The Lives I Couldn’t Change is a handwritten letter, hence all the strike-throughs, written by a teenage girl who’s found herself trapped after time traveling and witness person after person in different timelines, meeting their demise. I outsourced feedback on social media and was blow away the response. I am truly humbled by those who put time into helping this beauty shine. I hope you enjoy it.
https://vocal.media/fiction/to-the-lives-i-couldn-t-change
The Things We Collected, I absolutely loved writing. I discovered first-person plural is a thing during one of the online writing classes I’m taking asked us to read an excerpt of The Buddha in the Attic by Julie Otsuka. Since writing this very short story, I read The Buddha in the Attic, and I recommend you do as well. It’s beautifully written and such a unique way to show a collective experience while still giving each character individuality—it’s breathtaking.
The Things We Collected is inspired by my childhood with my brother and three boys we grew up around. It’s a quick read and deeply personal.
https://vocal.media/fiction/the-things-we-collected
Breath was originally published in the 2020 Fall edition of The Pitkin Review. It’s a tragic story, written in the second person, about a woman who finds her friend who attempted suicide.
https://vocal.media/fiction/breath-gucdn40ape
Life on the road, while still wondrous, might be reaching the final year. The stability of being in Vermont for seven months brought in the temptation of bundling up for the winter. I say this, and then read the posts of my friend frozen in Vermont, their temperature gauges hovering at around negative ten, and find contentment with the warmth and isolation of the desert.
The journey, as it has been for nearly the last three years, has been an expansion. It’s broadened my view on this country, humanity, and, of course, myself. Because of this, the idea of embracing stability again is both seducing and terrifying.
So, like all things that have come my way throughout life, I’ll keep my eyes open and see what happens.
Until then, I’ll keep writing, and I hope, you’ll keep reading.
My Year In Motion 