John Green quote

...... but not the blog.  The reason I started blogging has nothing to do with why I still write. I didn't start a blog because I wanted to capture memories, hone my writing, get paid for it, or meet people. But that's what happened. The unexpected (to me) outcome of starting a blog is the… Read More

We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect

I still find it hard to call myself a writer, or introduce myself as one. But it's nice when other people consider me one. So when I was recently invited to participate in an Blog Author Tour about my writing process by Jessica Smock of School of Smock, I was surprised and flattered.  I first… Read More

Where I'm from quote

Since it's the end of the year, I've been looking through old posts from a couple of years ago to find some favorites. This writing exercise based on a template born of a poem is one I truly love. I'd love for you to try it out, if you haven't done it before. I didn't… Read More

Yoga quote

Palms on your mat, push your heels down. Ground yourself. The past few weeks have been one of self-searching. Not so much soul, just self. Feeling slightly panicked, like I've waded too far into the ocean, and have nothing to hold on to, thinking I'm going to get pulled in and float away, helpless. Trying… Read More

Lemon blueberry muffins

It's been a strange time in my life. On the surface, it's all the same. Life hasn't changed. We still do what we do. I still do what I do, offline, online. But there is a shift. Somewhere deep inside me. I can't quite put my finger on it, on how it feels, but I… Read More

Quote about distraction

It's Monday morning, I need to write my blog post! Okay: one at school, the other is napping. Perfect. Let's start. Wait, need a cup of tea. Mug, water boiling, tea bag. Pour water. Brew. Huh, empty coffee cup in the sink. Wash. Wait, need to refill dishwasher liquid. Okay. Done. Gah, need to take… Read More

Sticky

in Motherhood, Toddler, Writing 82 comments
Sticky Thumbnail

Sticky. Darker than I thought. So much. My shirt, his pajama top, speckled with it. Beginning to dry, on my hand. Wet, my shirt is wet, his tears soaking into my shoulder, his pain becoming mine. Calm. Calm. Calm. Where is he? My husband? There. Come over, now. Take him. I'm taking a look. His… Read More

I Write This Blog

Alison Profile PictureI'm Alison and I pretend to be a writer. I'm really a mother of two boys (with twins on the way), and I thrive on mayhem and chaos. Chocolate helps too. Want to know more?

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