Monthly Archives: August 2014

I Thought My Father Was God

Posted on August 29, 2014 by wendykarasin

I hope this does not insult believers, it’s not my intention. But I did think my father was God, at least in the eyes of his young daughter. His intelligence, his swift and capable handling of arising problems, his compassionate … Continue reading →

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I Can See The Dawn

Posted on August 26, 2014 by wendykarasin

Life in the self publishing lane has improved. When Balboa heard my concerns, when I got to the right person (always important), circumstances changed quickly and I received a competent human to work with. The difference (duh) is remarkable not … Continue reading →

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The Dealeo?

Posted on August 11, 2014 by wendykarasin

I was fully prepared to write a glowing review for Balboa, virtually retracting my prior bouts. But that is not going to happen. Not today. The reason for this, is that the call I was to receive this morning, by … Continue reading →

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Balboa – Bout Two

Posted on August 7, 2014 by wendykarasin

It has been a while since I signed up with Balboa, and a while since I last wrote about the process. Suffice it to say, I’m not having fun. The gentleman I’m working with, let’s call him WE (as a … Continue reading →

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Writing is a sign,  an expression, a sharing of the soul. Today I read a creative nonfiction project that my son wrote for a writing class in college. Four years ago. It turned up randomly, accidentally, intentionally. Regardless, it was … Continue reading →

Posted on August 4, 2014 by wendykarasin | Leave a comment

Worst Is A Five Letter Word

Posted on August 4, 2014 by wendykarasin

My worst day was the day I understood with my mind, and felt in my heart, that my marriage had ended. That it was really, actually, fully, over. My wishes and hopes for my future and my children’s future, vanished. … Continue reading →

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The Problem With Prolific

Posted on August 1, 2014 by wendykarasin

Since I was a pre-teen, and emotions swept through me like the raging storm they were, I wrote. There is hardly an extended period of time I can remember, except when life was boringly easy, that I wasn’t expressing myself … Continue reading →

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