This short story is part of a chapter in my forthcoming book, “Memories of Montserrat.”
They told this story for years.
My grandparents loved entertaining. Tea parties, afternoons playing bridge, full dinners, Caribbean sunset viewings, and “Adventures in Listening” — they never missed an opportunity to gather and socialize.
Phones would ring across the island, as my grandfather would carefully watch the weather reports for a clear sky. “There’s a green flash happening tonight,” he’d tell my Nana, and she’d set up in the kitchen to bake bread, or a clafouti, or delicate finger sandwiches, after they decided to invite…
I’ve been telling people that my new business model, something I’ve been working on architecting for the past five years, possibly longer, is my magnum opus. It’s called the Garden of Neuro. Its design will create the largest women’s network on the planet.
I recognize that’s quite a bold claim.
I’m confident. People who know me, recognize that I don’t make idle claims.
I’m reminded of the lyrics to this famous song. Sometimes, I wake up with fully formed haiku floating around in my brain.
Some mornings I wake up with a song in my head. …
This is a writers’ prompt. The challenge which came out of one of our womxn’s Garden writers’ workshops, was to write a letter to someone for a gift you did not request. Write yours, then include a link to both this prompt, and tag Rachael Ann Sand for our post that consolidates them all. Good luck!
Here is my entry into the fray.
Dear guy from my twenties who shall remain nameless,
This is the thank you note I never got around to sending you, all those years ago. I should have sent it to you, back then. I just…
In winter’s den
Mushroom scented earth
Soft skin envelope
I pull the blanket
of silence over my shoulders
and stay warm
Inside these words
where I can hide my thoughts between the lines
As I rest and recover
From the summer bursts
and the autumn cyclone of leafy scurry
to hurry
to sleep
© Susan Brearley, 2021 All Rights Reserved
This poem was written in a writing workshop, funded in part by Poets & Writers with public funds from the New York State Council on the Arts with the support of Governor Andrew Cuomo and the New York State Legislature…
A piece that popped up on McSweeney’s came to the crew and captain’s attention:
It’s a fine piece of well edited writing.
The formula —
Aboard ship, and aboard the Slack for slackers skiff, we’ve been talking about tomorrow’s writer’s call. Why?
None other than Scott Dikkers, the longest running Editor in Chief and co-founder of The Onion, will be joining us, to talk about his adventures in comedy, as well as How to Write Funnier.
Teeth
Youth
Innocence
Naivete
Clothing styles. Shoes that hurt.
Passions
Youthful creations
Husbands
Smoothly functioning knees, elbows, and shoulders.
The idea that treadmills are in any way, fun.
© Susan Brearley, 2021 All Rights Reserved
This poem was written in a writing workshop, funded in part by Poets & Writers with public funds from the New York State Council on the Arts with the support of Governor Andrew Cuomo and the New York State Legislature. Sponsored by Landis Arboretum.
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Susan B. is a serial entrepreneur, writer, editor, poet and ship captain. Come find her in the Garden.
EIC-MuddyUm, Contemplate. To The Summit. 20X Medium top writer. Writing comedy since Age 3. Founder,Garden of Neuro. Edited once by Ev Wiliams. He found a typo.