“First Words,” by Daniel Holland
If I write about cavemen, do I need to go to a library?
Or can I just say the caveman’s first two words?
Fire. Wheel.
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What is fame to you? How would you know if you were famous? What would that do for you personally, if you were famous? What would it represent? Mean? How big an area would you have to be famous in to be satisfied? Does the itch to be famous ever stop, have boundaries, or just…
“Measuring Life,” thoughts by Daniel Holland
How to Measure Life is measured by a watch and a ruler. By the way, what time is it?
“She Saw,” a poem by Daniel Holland
Perched on the end of faded green roughened seesaw. Roughened by sand poured over the board. I went up and down, then suddenly stopped. Stopped in midflight by a girl child turned woman. She said, “Here I am!” with her eyes. She made the sand feel solid.
Baiting the Writing Hooks and Reeling It In–by Daniel Holland
Here’s Daniel Holland’s fanciful description of his writing process.–JGR I’m good at getting the hooks and baiting the hooks. I’m frustrated though, once my line is in the water. I don’t yet know how to play the line so I can get the bites and catch the fish. There’s my line in the water, dangling,…
“Gods Watching,” by Daniel Holland
A few summers ago Daniel and I went swimming in Clear Lake together…on the swimming beach at the Clear Lake State Park. I’m a strong swimmer and he’s more a dog paddler. When he ran into some water plants, he panicked and it felt as if he were having a heart attack. I swam towards…
“Snow Story Lies,” by Daniel Holland
I always lie when I tell snow stories. You say you walked to school as a kid in two feet of snow. I say I walked in three feet of snow. Not only that–it was 20 degrees below zero. There were no bathrooms in sight, a lot of people around. I was pee-shy.
This is such a direct thought, Daniel….going right to the source. Also, I enjoy the rhythm of the piece. You have an inquiring mind. It seems you often set up your pieces with a question.