Shaking the story

[murmuring]

I'm not finding the right words today, to tell you about I learned to fish from my father. I was 3 or 4 and the cast net was the biggest thing I had seen. I keep putting it off, reading my thesaurus, reciting old poems to myself and blinking back to the screen. It was so dark, and the stars so clear. Do you do that, when the story tugs too tightly? I'm fighting it, but it comes in spurts to spite me.

[Irene Sieders]

The story wants to be told, but it is to dear to you to part with, but now you've gone and done it anyway, very powerfully.

[L A Wilson]

Hits close to home and rings true. Lovely, reads like a poem.

[Cita]

yes... I know exactly what you mean