The dogs barking are a metaphor for the nature of all things—the rhythm of life, the letting go of the illusion that we have any real control.

We take on roles and jobs that slowly suffocate the creative spark we were born with. The juice. The muse. The quiet, insistent voice that says, This is what you’re here to make.

"This blog is part of my writing studio. This is where I can invite others to share their perspective and to consider where my views on humanity meets theirs."

At the heart of writing or sketching or creating anything is the desire to connect or to better see and understand the world we live in.

The fact is, creatives need daily practice. Not to create something to sell, but rather to feed the creative spirit. To keep it alive.

Magic and irony all rolled up into one. My daughter singing a song about running from the daylight as I, her mother wrote a memoir titled 'Running Into the Night.'

This is one of the hardest truths to write: achievement doesn't heal childhood trauma. You can build a beautiful life, earn degrees, create a family, and still feel like that displaced child inside.

We can either succumb to the adversity or decide not to give in. Decide and declare that adversity will not win.

Certain songs, smells, places, or objects become emotional landmines. They transport you instantly back to the worst moments. In memoir, these sensory triggers are gold—they're the details that help readers feel what you felt.

You need enough separation from your story to write about it without retraumatizing yourself. If you're still in the thick of the experience, you're not ready. Memoir requires the ability to dive into painful memories and resurface intact.

Then there are times when music takes you to where you've been, kind of like on a train ride. You just watch the years that came before. Who you were, the people that came and went. How you used to wear a scarf or a hat or high-heeled shoes and now you're all about understated comfort.

You can be factually accurate and emotionally dishonest. You can also have imperfect memory and be deeply, powerfully honest.

When you write about being an "easy target," you risk becoming one again—to critics, to trolls, to people who don't understand. But that vulnerability is also what makes memoir powerful.

To be truly alive, we must mourn joyfully all things that reach an inevitable end: seconds, minutes, hours, heartbeats, embraces, kisses