Back from Outer Space Because I Want You to Read This

I always thought I'd quote that Gloria Gaynor "I Will Survive" line if I ever met a martian. That song comes to mind, given the times we're living in (Social Distancing/ and in that society becoming more distanced than I thought imaginable.) I feel like a martian on some level we all? We're removed and we're isolated from one another like never before in our lifetimes. Or maybe a better comparison would be David Bowie's "Space Oddity" or David Bowie (always Bowie!) in "The Man Who Fell to Earth". Just like in my beloved "Twilight Zone" reruns, on some level we as humans are the martians so alienated from each other, yet we never fell to Earth, so why are we so removed and distant from one another? Why can't we comprehend that others go through pain that some of us have the privilege not to have experienced, and shouldn't this be a wake up call for all of us to try to live differently, more thoughtfully and c

"Back to the Gypsy that I Was"

Something about Stevie Nicks...her music has always guided me at different points in my life. Usually at times where I must face myself in clearest light: who I am, what I want. So yes, Fleetwood Mac. "Landslide", "Gypsy", I suppose, theme songs. For now, for always. The correlation between music and writing is so deep. Music fuels my writing, inspires me. "I have no fear   I have only love." "Goodness strikes   Maybe once, maybe twice   And it all comes down to you." -Fleetwood Mac- "Gypsy"

Time traveler

So I started this blog years ago, and here we are again. I find that the greatest people, places and ideas of my life are worth revisiting. It's absolutely true what Alan Lightman wrote in Einstein's Dreams : "Time is a circle." Which brings to mind lines from a beloved Tori Amos song: "Circles and circles and circles again The girl's in circles got to stop spinning" -Tori Amos- "Cloud on My Tongue- Well, here's the truth: writers never stop spinning. Spinning tales, spinning around in circles. When I was a kid, I did that endlessly...spinning around as fast as I could was the best. It's good to spin around. It's also good to get somewhere. Move with the wind, but at your own pace.  I talk fast, I move fast. But I take my time with what's truly important. Writing is essential. Lifeblood. It's carried me through. It's saved me time and again, brought me back to myself, to who and what I love and need

Try to achieve that balance

In life and in art, I believe it all comes down to one word BALANCE. Sometimes it gets a little overwhelming...a writer's vertigo. I know one thing: I am the least wobbly when I am writing. When things are going well, it's all little leaps and pirouettes.

Philadelphia Stories Interview

Recently my story "Rainy Day" was  published in the Forgotten Philadelphia anthology by PS Books. I was very pleased  to be interviewed for the PS Books blog by Chara Kramer. Here is a link to the interview:

Uncle John's Bathroom Reader presents...

Me! That is, my story "Prince Charming" is included in the new anthology Uncle John's Bathroom Reader Presents Flush Fiction! I am honored and excited!

I was thinking...

...about when I wrote these words: " I am a published writer, but in my estimation, not nearly enough as I should be" . Well, today they seem arrogant. It is not that I think I'm such a wonderful gift to humanity that I deserve it all. NO! I am self-conscious about my work, myself. In truth, what I was trying to say to myself is "Get off your duff, Christina, and WRITE MORE!" I was thinking about missed opportunities. I was trying to motivate myself to become more, because I am not where I am supposed to be yet. Seems I need a mantra. There is this innate feeling, calmly guiding me. I've always felt like Life is pulling me slowly in a certain direction. I think I will instinctively know when I have reached the point. I am not there yet. I must keep going, keep it together, keep WRITING. I used to think everyone felt pulled by a life's path electricity, but I get blank looks when I try to explain myself. It's a winding road; not yellow brick, but invi