In many ways, it was this site that taught me to write. Now I’m a writer by trade and believe it safe to say I certainly wouldn’t be a ghostwriter carving a living by writing great copy without my experiences here. Though I had already been writing for a bit before starting Writer Dad, it was only here, late at night lying next to Cindy with the notebook in my lap that I learned to bring the best of my immediate self to the surface.
I could never hope to compile a definitive list of favorite posts as many of them were truly significant to their moment in time.
About two weeks back I went through the archives in an effort to simplify my rather scattered categories. As I was browsing through the backlog, these were the titles that most caused me to make a break in my rhythm.
I love each and every one of these. If you are a newer reader, you may have missed one, many, or most. Please take the time, if not now then perhaps later, to pick one from the pile and place your eyes upon it.
Let me know what you think by comment or email any time. I’d love to know. If you do have an old favorite and it is on this list, please Tweet or Stumble.
Thank you much, I appreciate it. Please enjoy!
Mia’s uniform, the one that dropped just below her knees before vacation, now grazes the skin just above them. It’s less than half an inch, apparently the precise measurement needed to moisten my eyes…
We cannot stop life from happening. It goes on every day, with or without us. It follows us everywhere, surrounding us everywhere we go, no different from the air we breathe…
Billy slid his finger across the glass, then pulled manual control from the on board computer. He dragged his thumb in a neat line across the bar of green dashes until the glass was a straight line of crimson, each dash darkening beneath his drifting thumb. A few nearly silent words fell from the side of Billy’s mouth, and the Skyler soared into a full throttle; launching upward in a single straight shot, fifteen seconds into the sky. It teetered for a single second, with barely a mislaid milisecond of momentum, then hovered into a perfect horizontal…
Each of us is the sum of an infinity of thinly sliced seconds, where each one matters, at least to some degree. How could we ever hope to pinpoint that decisive second when things forever changed; the instant the axis of our world shifted and began to orbit in a different direction?
If I can carve out a living for myself, and my loved ones, by letting my fingers dance across these keys, then I’ll bow down and count myself as one of the lucky ones. But I can’t stand the idea of pouring over piles of syllables, belaboring every single page and paragraph of a novel that might take another year, and designing rhymes that no one will ever enunciate, when there’s a stack of bills that need to be paid (and quickly).
No, no, no! I Said I Didn’t Want to be a Chooch!
I believe in my neighborhood (always have), but the mothers and fathers of today should be paying more attention to the mothers and fathers of tomorrow…
They were both wise, to indeed understand:
all life is exciting, though all life can’t be planned.
It can be prepared for, and so that’s what they’d do.
I know this story’s fantastic, but I swear it’s all true…
Mia was a million miles over the moon; maybe more. Max just stared past us, toward the passerby on the sidewalk, as if they might be able to tell him whether or not he would see his friends the following summer…
The derelict nurse enters fifteen minutes later, wielding a needle while expounding, “Sorry guys, this is my first day.” He then approaches Max with the self assurance of a tourist without a map in a country without vowels…
Empires fade from suicide.
They whither from within.
We can peer through history
to find ourselves a twin.
There are plenty parallels,
let’s take some time to see;
Roman gladiators
echoed on reality TV….
Sean Platt is a dad, creative blogger, and sometimes potty training expert. Subscribe (for free) by RSS or Email and enjoy Writer Dad two times per week!
