I watch my wife dance.
Her hips move, her feet glide,
slippy-slide on the hardwood floor,
her arms splay in an awkward spider-legged oopsie.
I watching her dance vibrato
after a glass and a half of Muscato.
I’m not sure she cares if I’m in the room, and that’s alright.
She does her best rocking to John Denver.
Most of my writing ideas come in the wee hours. I typically get out of bed between 5 and 5:15 in the morning. Put on the coffee and something usually comes to me. A phrase, an image, a sentence. I’m quick to jot it down because, even if it makes no sense, there’s a feeling behind it. A color, a conversation, a character’s voice, a small piece of the writing puzzle. My stuff tends to be filled with colors and textures, so I pay attention to the shadows and what’s beneath them. Maybe that’s why I gravitated towards photography, the play of light and shadow. And, of course, color. Continue reading “The process”