Possibilities

I think a big part of my love of writing comes from the idea that when you write, anything is possible. There are no boundaries other than those your mind imposes. At the stroke of a finger, people dance, laugh and love, journeys are undertaken without fear or even despite chilling terror and, maybe the most important thing for me, is that happy endings are guaranteed. I like that, the guarantee...and when I write, that's not only a distinct possibility, but a probability.

It doesn't take much for me to begin to consider new possibilities. I see stories in little things, silly things, things that are all around us here at the farm.


Love the colors on the petals of this closed crocus. Don't they remind you of the swirling layers on a ball gown? And if we've got a ball gown, then there's got to be a lovely lady wearing that gown...and you know that if there's a gorgeous woman there's got to be some hunky hero just waiting to twirl her off onto the dance floor...

See? Anything's possible.


I'm always amazed by the stuff the winter's freeze pushes to the soil's surface. I found this piece of blue glass in one of the flower beds. Don't you just wonder whose hand held this last? And where there's a hand, there's a story.

See? Another possibility.


I was so excited to find this hole in a big old maple tree on our property. The tree is up in the forest, so really the hole could be anything. No one would ever see what goes into it...or what emerges. Could be a porthole to an alternate reality. Maybe there's a tunnel that leads into the hillside. Who knows? It could even shelter an ordinary owl--an owl who flies off to someplace interesting. Someplace exotic. Someplace where there's a story just waiting to be told.

Yeah, that's one of the things I love most about writing. Anything--and I do mean anything--is possible. It doesn't get much better than that.