A thousand days of silence broke six months ago when inspiration returned. Like my wilting impatiens that bounce back after watering, sometimes we're built to bloom—we just need the right conditions. My colleague says ambition left him. For me, breathing was hard enough. Until it wasn't.
Writing Life
My Creative Writing Teacher Called Every Poem a MADAM—She Was Really Teaching Me About Life
Mrs. Shelton taught me that every poem is a MADAM: the Most Acceptable Draft At the Moment. "Never fall in love with a first draft, Laura Joy," she'd say. Turns out she wasn't just teaching me about poetry—she was teaching me how to revise my entire life after divorce.
The Hollow Tree in My Backyard and the Woman Who Climbed on Top
A storm felled the ancient tree behind my house, revealing it was hollow inside. As I climbed its trunk, I wondered: How many of us stand tall while rotting at the base? At least I can still count my rings.
I Used to Be
Thirty-two and sitting on my Virginia porch with red wine and a laptop, I hadn't written in two years. Not since Nashville. Not since the divorce. Tonight, the first writing tingle returned—would it be enough to reclaim what I used to be?
Writer's Growth 