I know it's tempting. You want to spend years reworking and rewriting and rethinking that one great idea
For the record, there is no good way to phrase that title without a misplaced modifier in it somewhere, so I hope you editorially minded readers got a laugh imagining a tiger perched on top of a drinking fountain.
Great writing has emotion. It's about being human in the most basic way.
Simple enough, right?
Alright, everyone, here's your first writing prompt!
Good writers pay attention to the world around them.
In honor of the past three days I've spent wracking my brain and trying to figure out exactly what strand of my mental slobber could possible be fit for publication as my very first blog post, I've finally and ironically decided to start with a short writing tip.
I feel bad for babies. There is so much NEW that they have to learn how to deal with; it's no wonder they're constantly hysterical.
This post is in honor of Husband, Baby Ecklet, and I all surviving one week of (mostly) successful cloth diapering!
I have a strange, overwhelming, unrelenting, probably psychologically indicative urge to name all of my future children after spices and herbs.
I’m 27 weeks and counting! And things are looking great so far. Except for my feet, which are getting harder and harder to see.
When I was about 9, my neighbor friend and I decided to have a mini carnival in our backyard.
Recently, Husband and I did laundry together. Like, at a laundromat.
This is the story about the first moment I grew up.
Did you know there's such a thing as a "Gender Reveal Party"?
Sometimes I wish I were a nesting rabbit instead of a nesting person.
Husband and I rearranged our living room recently. Mostly because I had this wonderful urge to make things look cleaner in a really difficult way and also because I wanted to get rid of this hideous, sunburnt, orange-red, winged couch we've had in our apartment since we moved in.