Writing, Naturally

 This past year I somehow convinced myself that I was only making art and not writing because then I wouldn't have to confront how I really felt. Keep it all just under the surface. I could make work and express myself without committing to words. Less painful that way.

Except when I look back at my journal I see plenty of writing there. I've been writing, I just haven't given the activity my full attention. What does that mean when you think you aren't doing something but you are? It can be a scary thought, not knowing that you are doing something, something subconscious, like a habit. But then there is breathing and eating and sleeping, and we can't and don't always give those our full attention either.

I didn't send much work out, but a few things got published this past year, if you are interested in reading. (They are short.) I always update my web page of written work, but here are the recents that can be accessed online, 2020-2021. (There were others that were print only).

Nanoism: #926; August 25, 2021; "Every time we meet"

Litro Magazine: March 13, 2021; Central Park essay "From Somewhere"

Berkeleyside.com: February 8, 2021; "Berkeley Iceland," "Lothlorien Co-op," and "Pegasus Books"

100 Word Story: November 26, Thanksgiving, 2020; "Building the Butternut"

Eunoia Review: July 27, 2020; "Shelter"

Matter Press Journal of Compressed Creative Arts: May 4, 2020; "The Hidden Owl"

Nanoism: #870; March 11, 2020; "She could either have"

It is curious to think that there are things we naturally do, that are part of us always, even when we are not looking.

Rufous Hummingbird, Los Angeles, August 2021