Month: November 2017


Cats have been family a long time, so I’ve learned from the best: they’re Masters at Hiding. During these last few weeks, I haven’t written stories or posts; I haven’t revised manuscripts. I’ve been hiding. Hiding from discovering that I’m “good enough.” Hiding from discovering what my love of word craft can create. Hiding from success. Hiding from failure. Two weeks ago at a writers’ conference, published authors, agents, and editors discussed “great” story writing. The lyrical lilt to language spins an authentic tale, grabbing the heart and humor of the reader.

When I returned home, I shook the daylights out of a manuscript. My story was going to be “GREAT”! Somewhere in the battle for rhythmic wording, I lost my authenticity, my voice. Fear swung its fist at me and shouted, “You’ve got nothing!” So, I mastered a new skill–hiding in plain sight. I was EXCEPTIONALLY PRODUCTIVE! “I was TOO BUSY to write stories.”

While talking with God in a nightly prayer, my inner voice lost its patience. “NO MORE HIDING!” it shouted. I countered, “Whoa! No way was I hiding. I was busy. I’ll get back to writing….” Harrumph, I lost that argument. But in my loss, I realized I don’t like hiding. I HAVE a voice. In fact, I like my voice. My writing will get better, but I must keep writing and writing and writing.

During nights that followed, my imagination woke up with my bellowing bladder. At 2 a.m. I found myself squinting at my monitor’s back-light and writing and rewriting stories. Maybe writing in darkness helped me find the courage to write in daylight.

I learned much from those professionals who know book publishing at its best. I DO want to become a part of that world. I DO want to leave behind a legacy of literature–“good stuff, even ‘great’ stuff.” On the plus side, when we find ourselves hiding, we can certainly learn about ourselves. We need to appreciate our self-discoveries. We need to be gentle as we prod ourselves to move on, growing while groaning. We will become stronger and won’t hide so long the next time.


Birthdays spice up our lives! I’m celebrating whole-heartedly by wearing pj’s until noon, sipping honey-laced tea, and nibbling English muffins sprinkled with cinnamon sugar. On my birthday, my brain ruminates over the day my son Tyler was born. A 13-hour labor guarantees long-term memories. Becoming his mother gave me such love and such overwhelming responsibility. Baby and mom shared many song-filled sleepless nights. I rocked and sang through every Broadway musical my zombie state could recall. In those beginning days, singing soothed me, grounded me.

During  early morning feedings when no one else alive was awake, I wrote and sang this LULLABY night after night.  While reading, I hope the metered lyrics soothe you as they do me. Try belting out your own beauty. I’m listening….



By Marsha Elyn Wright


We’ve marched in time

Upon the stairs

And put away

Our balls and bears.


We’ve read our books

Of knights and kings,

Of queens who fly

On dragons’ wings.


And now it’s time

to hug goodnight

And ride the stars

‘Til morning’s light.


So close your eyes

While Mother sings,

And angels fly

On golden wings.


And you and I,

Two sleepy-heads,

Tuck into dreams

As nighttime spreads.