Before 6 this morning; it was so beautiful I had to take the shot, but then two seconds later the sun breached a bulkhead of clouds and it was even more beautiful--seconds later, even more...it just doesn't stop.
     Along the shore of my church, I contemplate a scene in a fiction I'm working on. Paula is tall (for a woman) lanky, almost boyish, with a shock of mousy brown too curly hair. Her heart belongs to the ocean and to a man who holds everything that love is supposed to be. Her trust in him is palpable. And he loves her heart, her goodness and how easy she is to manipulate. He will break her heart. He will destroy that which made her believe in dreams, and the hurting...it just doesn't stop.

Quote: I wake up in the morning and my mind starts making sentences, and I have to get rid of them fast--talk them or write them down-Ernest Hemingway

Writing tip: God made post-it-notes for a reason. Write down everything. If you are afraid of what others may think of what you write, then you shouldn't be a writer.