The Alcatraz Swim An essay by Janice Strootman “Three, two, one, jump!” yelled the boatswain. The ferry was bouncing wildly, the engines were off, and we w...

I am part of a wonderful women writers' group. About ten of us, give or take a few, meet every month for lunch and go around the table updating the others on...

Essay By Christine St. Germain I guess I became a writer when my Mom tried forcing me to write paragraphs whenever I got in trouble, and I decided to get ahe...

By Kathryn Holmes I always found procrastinators frustrating. “Make a decision!” “Just do it!” Then one day I realized I was one! Hi, my name is Kathi, and I...

An essay by Margaret Buckhanon I’m a writer, and those voices nagging me are characters all talking at once like unruly children vying for attention. They in...

Meditation on a Fruit Fly An essay by Stephanie Sorensen I just finished reading Marilynne Robinson’s Gilead. I can only agree with her: How can anyone even ...

Bambi A protective and loving doe escorted her twin fawns to the pile of corn to eat and stood guard with protruded ears on high alert sniffing for danger. I...

Giving Up a Career for Motherhood An essay by Judith F. Brenner Back in 2004, despite the judging eyes of others, I chose full-time parenting, and left the w...

Morning Mist By Gloria VanDemmeltraadt A yellow bird sits precariously in the porcelain palm of the hand that is part of a small fountain on my patio. He is ...