With a stinky stogie clamped between my teeth, I threw a crumpled trench coat over my shoulder, slapped my grandfather’s worn fedora on my head, stood on tip-toes and peeked through the window of the classroom door. Waiting for my cue, my heart raced, overtaking the steady beat of the hallway clock as it ticked the minutes to my entrance. Before I was able to swipe a sweaty palm across my rumpled shirt, it came…
“Oscar. Oscar. Oscar,” my friend Barbara lamented, nodding in my direction.
With one deep breath, I grabbed the door handle, pushed it down, and burst into the room. No longer the quiet, shy, mild-mannered Donna Lambo, Continue reading
She stands facing the pale, windswept bay, tall and erect as the ancient redwoods poking through the shroud of fog folding over the mountain range behind her. They loom in the distance like a pack of protective brothers, chanting in the blustering gale, You’re not alone. We’ve got your back. 
Extreme weather boots.
Alice Wetherby Pimms physically felt time pass in the coursing of her blood for as long as she could remember. Every second -tick, tick, tick- was like an invasion of needle-nosed imps nipping at the underside of her plump flesh.
As writers, we all have our favorite writing methods. For instance, some swear by Scrivener, while others write in Word or Google docs. Some prefer to draft longhand, using colorful gel pens and notebooks.
If I were a simple love poem
The Emotion Thesaurus Second Edition
Why do I write? Good question.
Donna Gwinnell Lambo-Weidner 