“Writing Dollars and Sense,” by Daniel Holland
Should I write a story
with big words that pays big money?
Or, should I write this story
that is worth only five cents
but makes sense to me?
Should I write a story
with big words that pays big money?
Or, should I write this story
that is worth only five cents
but makes sense to me?
The Poet gropes in the darkness for the switch knowing that the light that is sought lies within. –William T. Dawson I met William Dawson when I told a story at last year’s Sunflower Festival in Mountainaire, New Mexico. We shared supper on his simple terrace as we gazed across the desert leading up to…
Joel Heffner is a man of many projects. One of his really fun ones is a site called “How We Became Writers: This is how we did it.” He’s just posted my story of how I became a writer which includes my poem “Scribbler,” from “Sightlines: A Poet’s Diary.” You can read the entire post…
I put my mind in a time bottle. Watch the particles of brain matter funnel down the sand trap called Time.
VACUUM SUCKS You know those little things in the carpet that try to hide? When you vacuum “hide and seek” becomes “hide and suck.” If you have a cheap vacuum, vacuuming becomes a hockey game. The goalie is under the mat. The cheaper the vacuum, the bigger the mat. As a kid I used to…
The Nurse Remembers I remember the first meeting, as we signed her up…being in silence as I took her vitals and did the paperwork. Her cancer was so large when we found it, you could see it in her breast. We talked about her pain. I remember when she first was wheeled in to the…
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.
The Poet gropes in the darkness for the switch knowing that the light that is sought lies within. –William T. Dawson I met William Dawson when I told a story at last year’s Sunflower Festival in Mountainaire, New Mexico. We shared supper on his simple terrace as we gazed across the desert leading up to…
Joel Heffner is a man of many projects. One of his really fun ones is a site called “How We Became Writers: This is how we did it.” He’s just posted my story of how I became a writer which includes my poem “Scribbler,” from “Sightlines: A Poet’s Diary.” You can read the entire post…
I put my mind in a time bottle. Watch the particles of brain matter funnel down the sand trap called Time.
VACUUM SUCKS You know those little things in the carpet that try to hide? When you vacuum “hide and seek” becomes “hide and suck.” If you have a cheap vacuum, vacuuming becomes a hockey game. The goalie is under the mat. The cheaper the vacuum, the bigger the mat. As a kid I used to…
The Nurse Remembers I remember the first meeting, as we signed her up…being in silence as I took her vitals and did the paperwork. Her cancer was so large when we found it, you could see it in her breast. We talked about her pain. I remember when she first was wheeled in to the…
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.
The Poet gropes in the darkness for the switch knowing that the light that is sought lies within. –William T. Dawson I met William Dawson when I told a story at last year’s Sunflower Festival in Mountainaire, New Mexico. We shared supper on his simple terrace as we gazed across the desert leading up to…
Joel Heffner is a man of many projects. One of his really fun ones is a site called “How We Became Writers: This is how we did it.” He’s just posted my story of how I became a writer which includes my poem “Scribbler,” from “Sightlines: A Poet’s Diary.” You can read the entire post…
I put my mind in a time bottle. Watch the particles of brain matter funnel down the sand trap called Time.
VACUUM SUCKS You know those little things in the carpet that try to hide? When you vacuum “hide and seek” becomes “hide and suck.” If you have a cheap vacuum, vacuuming becomes a hockey game. The goalie is under the mat. The cheaper the vacuum, the bigger the mat. As a kid I used to…
The Nurse Remembers I remember the first meeting, as we signed her up…being in silence as I took her vitals and did the paperwork. Her cancer was so large when we found it, you could see it in her breast. We talked about her pain. I remember when she first was wheeled in to the…
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.
Daniel, you strike to the heart of the quasi-professional writer’s dilemna. I’ve always chosen to write the story that makes sense to me. I believe it is possible to do both–make both sense and cents…it’s an acquired skill.