A Little About Me
I am an adventure seeking ponderer of the mysteries of the universe, writer of children's books (represented by Stephen Fraser of the Jennifer DeChiara Literary Agency), and lover of anything involving armor, archery, or swashbuckling.
2020 ONGOING VIRTUAL FEST
Share the Joy of Reading with
Holy Schlamoly – honored that my post “2 A.M.” was
- IF YOU COULD TURN BACK THE SUNDIAL…
- SOMEONE PINCH ME – I Think I’ve Woken Up On Mars
- A SUNDAY NOODLE
- CHOOSE A BOOK-TURN TO CHAPTER EIGHT-BEGIN WITH LINE EIGHT
- WHAT THE ICEBERG SAID
- TWO QUIRKS, A CONSIDERATION, AND A QUANDARY – a.k.a. Peculiar Pandemic Ponderings
- LEGO LOCKDOWN – THE STOWAWAYS
- THIS Weekend! Visit the BAY AREA BOOK FESTIVAL From Home!
Member Since 2007
© 2012-2020 Donna Gwinnell Lambo Weidner
Punishment for ignoring said © is, at best, death by hanging from the tallest yardarm. Content may be shared for non-commercial use as long as credit is given to Donna Gwinnell Lambo-Weidner and linked to http://donnaweidner.com All photo, art, and media content that is not my own are for representational + non-commercial purposes. I do my best to give credit where it is due.
BLOG-MATIES I VISIT
Category Archives: WRITING CHALLENGES
She just couldn’t figure out what that something was. Had it risen from the cooling embers when she turned and reached for her fleece? Besides the chill that launched goosebumps up her back, spread them across her neck, and down … Continue reading
Alice Wetherby-Pimms had a peculiar penchant for pickles. Be they sweet, sour, or dill, the child was mad about brined cucumbers. Chips, chunks, cubes, finely chopped relishes, halves, slices, spears, sticks and whole, no matter their shape, Alice craved them … Continue reading
Until I was six, I thought Uncle Sally’s name was Who-Gives-A-Sh*t. Everyone called him that – the neighbors, the few friends he had, his business associates, the family – even his mother, my Nana. She’d hoped the label wouldda’ forced her caro … Continue reading
This Page This Blank Page This Spotless, Blank, White Page Why is it so terrifying? So intimidating? So daunting?
Ichiro snores. The fog horn blows. My feet are cold and the fragrance of lilies on the kitchen counter drifts into the living room where I stare at the precarious position of my teacup on the edge of the coffee table while pondering this run on sentence the … Continue reading
Car horns honk. Motorbikes beep. Tuk-tuks toot. The wave of sound winds down as the steel herd halts for a red signal, then builds again when the traffic light turns green and the swarm surges forward. The pack pushes through the streets of Delhi … Continue reading
Out of all the tickers that stopped at precisely 12:15 pm, Alastair Hoodwink managed to squeeze a few more seconds from his for a last word with his son Malcolm… “When the world literally begins to fade into a blank canvas, rest assured, … Continue reading
Here a Mo, there a Mo, Everywhere a Mo, Mo. If you write or are thinking of writing, November’s got the MO that will invite the muse and ignite inspiration. First, the mother of MOs. The MO that started it all