Created To Fly

I am a journey. It begins with a breath.


August 2015

Writing Myself Alive – Again




Andréa Balt is one of the founders of the Write Yourself Alive challenge I’ve been participating in this past month. Her words often slay all my heart’s defenses and cut right to the core of my excuses. I’m so thankful for this challenge. Although I haven’t always posted what I’ve been writing and what’s going on with me, I truly feel as if life has been breathed back into my writing, and by extension, my life. ❤


Mountain High

Photo Credit: Nate Bowman
Photo Credit: Nate Bowman

This is where I spent last weekend. Well, not standing in that specific spot with a beer in my hand the entire time, although one of those things might still be true…😁

Ah camping. The great equalizer.

Upside: Peace, quiet, communing with nature, hiking, clear rushing creeks and towering trees. Oh, and absolutely no cell service. You couldn’t even hum a few bars. Continue reading “Mountain High”

Split Personality (Day 20)


Funny, right? Well. Sort of.

I mean, we all go through phases. We grow up. We grow out. We grow through. Today’s question asks me if there’s one substantial change I’d like to see in my writing at the end of this 30 days. Or even at the end of three months.

Swear to God, my first thought was “God, I’d like to stop writing such intense and raw melancholy bullshit.” I’ve had enough baring my soul, thank you very much.

And by the way? God, or whoever you are – why do I have to do this so publicly all the time?

It’s not just this challenge, which by the way, I could have done alone and never posted a word on any of the group pages or on my blog. But my heart is strangely masochistic.

I don’t understand this forced blood-letting ceremony, but I can tell you this much, because I know myself. Without the prompting, without the public confession I would never grow up, or out, or through. Continue reading “Split Personality (Day 20)”

Genevieve’s Song (Day 19)

PIPPIN: I didn’t think it would end this way.

GANDALF: End? No, the journey doesn’t end here. Death is just another path, one that we all must take. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it.

PIPPIN: What? Gandalf? See what?

GANDALF: White shores, and beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise.

PIPPIN: Well, that isn’t so bad.

GANDALF: No. No, it isn’t.

― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings


Genevieve struggled with dying. Even though she was mostly comatose, her family gathered all around her, she struggled to let go. As the lone nurse covering the hospice house that evening, I did everything I could to make her comfortable. Continue reading “Genevieve’s Song (Day 19)”

Mirror Image (Day 18)

imageMy favorite book in the Little House series was Farmer Boy. I was so drawn to the simple lives they led, filled with hard but honest work, good food and strong families. I have often longed for a similar simplicity. Sometimes I wonder if the Amish aren’t onto something.

There’s something to be said for embracing a distilled kind of lifestyle that chooses to take the time to craft things by hand, and one that rejects vanity. I honestly think I could learn to live quite nicely without electricity and even technology (the hand cramps from writing longhand notwithstanding).

What I wish I could live without is a mirror.

They say that the best way to spot a counterfeit is not to study examples of counterfeits, but rather to get to know the real thing. Really get to know it. Know every inch and every mark.

It is by knowing what’s real that you will recognize the fake. Continue reading “Mirror Image (Day 18)”

Throttle Therapy



I’m starting to regret my commitment to post every day about my journey to “write myself alive”.

If I’m going to be honest (and that is what I committed to at the beginning of this process) the Write Yourself Alive campaign has taken everything I had to give. I’m just about half way through and really wanting to quit.

Day 13 I lived the prompt. 

I took a walk on the wild side and bought a Harley, but the prompts for days 14 and 15 weren’t so easy. When the rubber met the road I literally got on my bike and spent the last two days trying to outride the answers to those next two questions. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t outride them.

I couldn’t outrun them.  Continue reading “Throttle Therapy”

And now, back to our regular program…

We interrupt this 30 day writing challenge to bring you an important message from our sponsor: She’s out riding this:


In fact “this” is the pictorial illustration of day 13’s writing challenge: When was the last time you lost it and let your wild out through a ridiculous, crazy or what seemed like a “stupid” move or reaction?

I bought a Harley.

Stay tuned. Story to follow…



Day 12 – Starting Now.

Photo Cred: Jason Carranza
Photo Cred: Jason Carranza

I’m supposed to talk about myself. Again. This is getting really old. And really freaking personal. But ok, here goes…

Today’s prompt wants me to talk about recent encounters with my shadow self, my darker side, the “monsters in my closet”–which I find amusing because I hang out with them on the daily, and honestly, they’re not so scary once you get to know them. It also wants me to imagine an alter ego. What would that look like? Act like?

It turns out I can speak to this fairly clearly, because like all true left-handers, I’ve done it backwards. I started out as a wildling, to borrow from George Martin, and then became domesticated. I’ve seen both sides of myself. And now I’m trying to meet somewhere in the middle.  Continue reading “Day 12 – Starting Now.”

Finn, Again.

Finn Final Final with border

Today, in honor of “Writing Myself Alive” I’m posting a short excerpt of my novel that is releasing this fall. Finn, Again. is a deeply moving tale of one man’s journey down a path he never intended, searching for a life he never knew he wanted.

I hadn’t been to church in quite some time. I wasn’t sure exactly where God and I stood on a lot of things, but I went out of respect for the dead. I crossed myself and knelt in all the right places, feeling sufficiently numb the entire time. Then, just as the priest was giving a sermon on death, I broke.

I don’t mean that I broke down and cried. I mean something shattered in the core of my being and I got up and bolted out of that church. Continue reading “Finn, Again.”

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