Musician vs. Machine

The night breeze whispered through the trees, shuffling their crisp leaves and making them buzz like radio static. It was an unusually beautiful autumn day, but then again, it was January. Always several steps ahead in politics, technology, and accepted morality, Los Angeles remained ever a few months behind when it came to seasons.  But…

Royal: A Typewriter Story

I feel I should offer a few disclaimers before you read the following story: I do not drink, but apparently the narrator does. I love typewriters and mean no offense. No cats were harmed in the making of this story. Royal December 23, 2017 It was an impulse buy, totally impractical as demonstrated by the…

Non-Writing Writer

I was inspired this morning as I walked to practice piano for an upcoming recital... this would have been great, had I been inspired to practice. Rather, I was inspired to set the opening of Wordsworth’s The Prelude to music.  My roommate (bless her) stopped me just in time: “Ryanne, if you write a melody and…

Ray Bradbury: a reflection 

Yesterday was the birthday of renouned American author, Ray Bradbury. Three more years and we can celebrate his 100th birthday. But even in 2017, Bradbury's birthday is special to me because his stories provided the kick-in-the-pants I needed to take my writing seriously.  Before entering high school, my family and I made a trip to…

Reflections on Writing a Novel Draft

During my journey home from Italy, I was super bored and, thus, my brain went crazy and came up with a novel idea that I am ridiculously excited about. Thankfully, I hit 50,000 words on my other novel draft, so I was able to set that one aside without too much guilt to begin this…

Writing Victories

Just had to brag a little bit: Today marks the two-year birthday of my baby novel. On this day in 2014, I was inspired to write a book about a quirky little town that I stumbled upon and, to my delight, today I reached the word count required for my manuscript to qualify as a…

On the Platform

“Are you waiting for someone, miss?”       “Yes.”       “Would you prefer to sit in the waiting room?”       “No thank you.”       She had been sitting there for quite some time and the train station master was beginning to wonder if she was really waiting for anyone at all. She certainly appeared to be…

The Gardener

Their forks clicked in unison against the empty plates as they set them down, finished. The utensils were not the only things that had clicked. The meal had been delicious, the girl lovely, the man courteous, the conversation interesting and free of the awkward pauses generally ended by dull commentaries on the weather or the…

Ambidextrous

Ambidextrous             “I,” he wrote in large, blocked script with a pen clenched between the stiff fingers of his left hand. A more definite pronoun had never before graced a blank page. Except for every other page in the diary. And every other diary of every other shelf in the small room, made even smaller…