Social Compost (an Abecedarian Poem) #AtoZChallenge

Social Compost (an Abecedarian Poem) #AtoZChallenge

Absolutes: we deal in
Black and white.
Color – once vibrant – now
Dimmed to dull gray
Effluence – our
Flaws flowing, fulgent –
Garish graffiti on our souls.
Have mercy.
It’s ironic:
Justice, blind, can’t see
Keenly how, by their absence,
Lacunae have tipped the scales –
Making chaos out of order.
Not till the eleventh hour –
Ostensibly, too late
Practically past all hope,
Questioning the who, what, where, and why of it
Restores her sight, and now
Shows clearly how
Tenacious tendrils of apathy
Unseen, like dandelion roots or
Varicose vines,
Wrap around the wooden heart –
Xylophagus. Rot, in the end, reduced to

#100Words100Days, Instagram, and Add Text App

#100Words100Days, Instagram, and Add Text App


A few months ago, I made my personal Instagram account “private.” Or as private as it could be, with 794 followers. I was tired of playing Report > Block > Delete with the daily onslaught of fraudulent accounts. But I also wanted to keep a public Instagram account, and to explore how Instagram might fit with my writing – not just snapshots of “whatever caught my eye today.” And while my “personal brand” as Queen of the No-Niche Niche is “eclectic,” I wanted a template to tie things together, similar to what my friends Sharon Hurley Hall or Ming Qian have been doing.

Then, I ran across an account called @100Words100Days. I loved the idea, but I also wanted to make it my own. I thought that, for Instagram, it needed more visual appeal. My first efforts lacked any sort of cohesive look and feel; later entries were more visually attractive at the expense of readability.

I quickly fell behind. No one said #100words100days had to be consecutive days, though, right? As I refined my ideas, I grew to dislike the earlier posts and how they looked in a grid layout. The more I looked at them, the stronger my urge to rip out all the posts and start over grew. Would anyone care? Would I lose followers? Most of my followers there know me well enough, by now, not to bat an eye.

So I took a step back and thought about this for a while. I made a list of my own, personal requirements:

  • Visual appeal;
  • Readability (I put visual appeal first only because it’s Instagram);
  • Cohesiveness of design;
  • Ease of creation, using a consistent workflow that can adapt to either PC or mobile device with minimal effort;
  • Affordability of software.

There’s a reason designers and graphic artists are paid well. What looks effortless is anything but.

And I started to rip.

Here’s what I finally came up with – but as always, I reserve the right to tweak it over time!

Now, how to recreate this and make it easy to do in the future?


Sharon and Ming Qian both recommended Canva, which is available both on mobile and desktop. I know that Canva has many die-hard fans, but for me, it’s like Scrivener: I really want to love it, but I just don’t.

I was determined to work with the tools I had on hand, if at all possible. For the desktop PC, that was Corel PaintShop Pro 2021 (the full version is currently $99, or $79 for the upgrade, and is close enough to Photoshop without the sticker shock to suit me).

For my Android mobile phone, I wanted just one or two apps that could do it all and on a shoestring budget. I was able to narrow it down to File Manager Plus, Snapseed, and Add Text (by Gabo Apps). Sorry, all you Clubhouse fans; Add Text is only available for Android. All three are free; for a small one-time fee, you can upgrade Add Text and File Manager Plus to remove the ads. I generally won’t pay a recurring monthly fee to use an app. I will pay a reasonable amount for apps I use quite often or find particularly useful. I use these often enough that I was happy to support the developers and support folks.

I’m using Microsoft Word to create the text, using a shared document on OneDrive. That lets me count words easily, and seamlessly move back and forth between devices. Microsoft OneNote is another good option, but it was easier to get the word count using Word.

File Manager Plus

If you have a favorite File Manager app on your phone, already, use it. I use File Manager Plus when I want to create a special folder for transferring files to or from my PC. In this case, I used it to create one in my photo gallery called 100 Words. This is also where I will save the output from Add Text, rename it, and select it to upload to Instagram. To create a folder:

  1. Tap the overflow menu (upper right corner, three vertical dots):
  2. Select New:
  3. Type a name for your new folder:
  4. Tap OK (check mark icon).


I use Snapseed to edit the photos I take on my phone. It’s a powerful, free app from Google. Fear not, iPhone users: according to Tom’s Guide, there’s an iOS version that, as of 2017, might even be better than the Android version. See Snapseed Review: Best Photo-Editing App for Serious Photographers. I remember there being a fairly steep learning curve, but only because I was unfamiliar with the icons and UI design of Snapseed. I’d suggest grabbing the app, loading a copy of any photo, and experimenting with all the features of the app before trying to create a photo story for Instagram with it.

After opening a photo in Snapseed, you will see a menu across the bottom of the screen: Looks, Tools, and Export:

Looks equates to Filters in Instagram. Snapseed includes a few built-in filters, just like Instagram does, but also allows you to save your own photo adjustments as a Look. Before using Looks, you may want to do a bit of research, and ask yourself: Do my photos need any pre-set filters? What sort of effects would I want to apply consistently? Things like filters, color saturation, and focus can have a powerful emotional effect on the viewer. But you may not need to make may changes to your snapshots, depending on what and why you want to share.

  • The 10 Best Instagram Filters for 2021 – unsurprisingly, digital cameras have reached the point where no filter at all is often the best choice. Read this to find out why, and what the next best choices are. I prefer to manually tweak my images, if they need tweaking at all.
  • When to Use Saturated Colors – color has a psychological effect on the viewer. This article talks about how to appeal to the viewer’s emotions.

The main thing is to crop your image to 1080×1080 pixels, to prep it for Instagram. Crop is found under Tools.

If you like the edits you’ve applied and want to save them as a group, to use on other photos, tap Looks, scroll through the options to the right, and click the + icon. Type a name for your Look. You can select those settings from Looks, and apply them, now, to any photo you edit in Snapseed.

Add Text

Add Text is one of the few free apps that has ever made me think, “How can I give you money? How can I give you more money?” This full-featured app is free – no need for a “premium upgrade” to add all the best features! They are all there, right from the start. The cost to remove ads is $4.99, and well worth it in my opinion. The cost to add additional shapes is $1.99. I added this – call it a “tip” for the developer and support. If all we wanted to do was “add text to an image,” Snapseed does that quite nicely. Assuming you are satisfied with the built-in fonts and styles. Other apps let you do this, too. No – the trick is in how versatile the Add Text app is, and the fact that you can create multiple layers of images and text.

To duplicate the look here, complete the steps outlined below.

The image above consists of a background (white), two images (one photo and one banner “overlay” in black at 65% opacity containing byline, tag, and website URL), and one text layer (title). I created the original in PaintShop Pro, then saved each layer to my phone and created a Project in Add Text using these premade layers. That simply makes it easier for me to create the same look (and spacing, more or less) on both desktop and mobile.

Do take note of your overall image crop size (mine is 1080 x 1080 pixels, for Instagram), your font choices, and your font size choices. One thing I wanted to do was to use the same typefaces I’m using on my website: Acme and Abel. I had no idea just how many fonts were available to me – so I suggested to the developers that they add a feature that would let users add free Google fonts. Within a couple of hours, I had an answer – just tap the up arrow under Format and search for them.

Here are the steps to do this, using only the Add Text app:

  1. To open the app, tap the Add Text icon:
  2. Select Background color. I chose white. Do not use Transparent (the gray and white checked circle) for Instagram posts.
  3. Next, you will see a blank canvas in your chosen background color. Across the top, from left to right: Back button; Pan/Pin/Fit (move, resize); Undo; Add Layer (same options are shown across the bottom, just below the canvas); Redo; Show Layers; Save and Share.

    Use pinch-zoom to resize the canvas so that you can see its edges. This isn’t necessary, but it’s helpful in making sure that overlays and text go edge to edge and are centered.
  4. Using the + (top center) or the Add Layer ribbon across the bottom, tap to choose Shape. To create the image shown above, choose the square. Adjust the size and position of the shape until it looks like the image shown below. To do this, tap the icons – from left top, clockwise – Delete Layer; Adjust Height; Rotate; Expand/Contract (keep aspect ratio); Duplicate Layer; Adjust Width.

    Slide the Opacity to 65% (or whatever amount you prefer) to allow the image to show through from underneath.
  5. Tap the + to Add Layer. Choose Text.
  6. Type the text you want to appear on the new layer. Tap the alignment button (top center-left) to cycle through left-aligned, centered, or right-aligned (relative to the text box itself). Tap the justification icon (top center-right) if you want text to have justified margins; tap again to return to ragged margins. Tap OK (the checkmark in the upper right corner).
  7. Tap and drag the text box to reposition it. The icons are the same as for Shape with two new additions: the icon at the right side of the box resizes the text box width without resizing the text inside the box, and Edit (keyboard icon at the lower left corner) lets you edit the text itself. If you use any of the other resize icons, you will also resize the text height, width, or overall size – but as an image. In most cases, it is better to resize the text using the Format options to select the font size.
  8. Across the bottom of the screen, you will see the text layer options: Style; Format; Color; Stroke; Highlight; Spacing; Position; 3D Rotate; 3D; Perspective; Bend; Shadow; Gradient; Texture; Opacity; Erase. Swipe this options ribbon right or left to scroll through all of them.
  9. Select Format. To locate a particular font, select Bonus or Standard. These are two different lists and are not searchable as a single list. My fonts, Acme and Abel, are under Bonus. You can scroll through the lists for visual samples of the installed fonts, or search for a specific font by name, if you know the name of the one you want. If you still cannot find the font you want, but have the .ttf file on your device, click the + icon to add it. You can find additional fonts at sites like
  10. Tap the font name to apply it to your text layer. Tap the star icon at the right to add the font to your Favorites.
  11. Tap the back arrow to the left of the font name to return to Format. Select the text you want to format – you can select individual characters, words, or the entire contents of the layer. Adjust alignment of text, apply bold, italics, underscore, or strikethrough. Increase or decrease the font size.
  12. From the text options menu across the bottom of the screen, tap Color. Tap white. You can also use the eyedropper to pick up colors from a background image or to enter a hexadecimal color value for more precise color selection.
  13. Repeat steps 5 through as often as needed. The example has three text layers: title, hashtag, and URL. To make it easier to reposition, resize, and add effects to text elements later, do not try to type all text into one layer.
  14. Experiment with other options to learn what each does. For the purposes of this exercise, this is all you need to do.
  15. Tap the + to Add Layer. Choose Photo.
  16. Tap Gallery. Browse the Gallery or File Manager Plus to the select the photo you wish to use over your Background Layer.
  17. Tap the Show Layers icon (second from the right, at the top of the screen).
  18. Tap and drag the = to the right of the layer name to move it up (towards the top) or down (towards the bottom) of the stack of layers. The image should be underneath the shape and text layers.
  19. Tap the Save and Share icon (upper right corner). Tap Save Project (you can use this next time, altering only the image and text as needed).
  20. Tap to open the Project you just saved.
  21. Tap the Save and Share icon (upper right corner). Share to File Manager Plus. Save to the folder you created earlier.

You may also want to view some of the Add Text Tutorials on YouTube.

Here are the two basic templates I created:


This is just the background, banner, and text (other than the title). All I have to do, now, is add a title and image to the cover, and add story text (and, optionally, a background image) to the story pages.

Here’s a second story I posted using the same templates:

The “boilerplate” and hashtags are also stored in, and copy/pasted from Microsoft Word.


Not only did I fall behind on the #100Words100Days challenge, I got completely derailed shortly after I’d written about half of this post. You may have heard that a little Arctic freeze hit North America – and smacked Texans especially hard the week of January 15, 2021. I’m in Houston.

And I’m fine. We were without power for 34 hours straight while night-time temps plummeted to 13ºF. Then we were thankful to be on rolling power – enough to warm the house up from 48ºF, at its lowest point indoors. We only lost water – due to pipes cracking and low power at the station that delivers us our water – but that only lasted about 4 hours. All in all, we were among the lucky ones. There are people in Houston, and across the state of Texas, who still have no power, no water, no food, and are – to add insult to injury – on a “boil water notice” (meaning that if they do get water, the pressure’s too low to keep it free of potentially deadly pathogens, so they can’t ingest it without boiling it for a few minutes first). Some of these people are seniors, or families with newborns or small children.

If you are looking for ways to help, I strongly suggest a donation to the Houston Food Bank.

Happy New Year, and Everything It Brings!

Happy New Year, and Everything It Brings!

I could sit here trying to come up with something profound and quote-worthy to say about 2020, but it would be a lie. It has not been, “the best of years” nor has it been, universally, “the worst of years.” Maybe it has been one of the most off-kilter of years. For some, the saddest and the scariest. For others, the most unjust and disappointing. For some, it has meant opportunities seized; for others, opportunities glimpsed, from under a warm blanket, as they went flying by. We have all been touched by the pandemic in some way, but the truth of it is, we’ve had different experiences of it — good, bad, and everything in between. “Where were you when the first lockdowns were announced?” will join “Where were you when the Challenger blew up?”

We’re all “in it together, separately.” And that’s okay. But I think enough’s been said about this year to leave it feeling like warm horseshit wrapped in chocolate with a glittering crust of way too much sugar. A nauseating and unnourishing lump of something  that’s been rolled downhill more times than a sturdy haggis, slammed into a sand trap by a carrot-topped golfer in dingy gray whites, and spit into the sea by an annoyed alligator stung on the ass by a murder hornet for good measure. And yet…and yet. It’s not been all bad, has it? Not if I’m here to write this and you’re here to read it.

Let’s move on, shall we?

To my friends on the other side of the planet, where it is already 2021, I say “Happy New Year! Treat 2021 kindly, or at least don’t piss it off before we get there to wish it well!” To my Australian friends, in particular: “Please, please, for the love of all that’s holy, don’t let the funnel web spiders get drunk and mate with the murder hornets, eh?”

To my friends on the east coast of the USA – look on the bright side: No need to brave slush, snow, and drizzle to join a crowd of a million people in Times Square, this year! Watch the festivities online, where it’s warm and safe. Zoom with friends, and share a toast. Frankly, I’m a little thankful for rain where I live. Not to be a wet blanket on the fireworks thing, but neighbors have been setting them off since Christmas and we could all use a break. Especially those folks on NextDoor who have pets, and the ones who aren’t quite sure whether it’s gunshots, fireworks, really loud champagne corks, domestic violence, or the start of World War III. Let’s let everyone have one good night’s sleep to “ring in the year.”

Please don’t drink and drive. Most hospitals are short-staffed, short on beds, and are doing triage, these days. Triage is where someone runs around a mass casualty and plays, “Duck, duck, go!” only it’s more like, “Right now, next week, dead!” You get your drunk self into an accident, you’ll be lucky if they patch you up in a Whataburger parking lot and post your idiot face on social media. Come to think of it, just don’t get drunk. It’s not going to be fun when the EMTs have to drag you out, feet first, from between the shower and the toilet to patch you up in a Whataburger parking lot before posting your idiot face on social media. Give your local hospitals and healthcare professionals a break, and celebrate responsibly.

No New Year’s Eve ever feels complete without ABBA singing, “Happy New Year.”

New Year’s Eve Aha! Moments

Responding to a comment by a friend, this morning – a friend who was complimenting my writing and calling it “occasionally edgy” – I wrote,

…when my mind’s in a really dark place, my writing isn’t really ‘edgy.’ It’s more like a pathetic little bathtub filled with quicksand, where you can almost imagine me wallowing around, trying to pretend my feet don’t touch the bottom. I get about two paragraphs in, start muttering, ‘Oh, FFS…’ and stop. Take a walk, take a nap, take two aspirin and call my Muse in the morning.


I can’t write drunk, either. I suspect those writers who are notorious for drugs and drink were battling other demons — and trying to silence them long enough to write, not the other way around as so many young writers imagine. I don’t like it when my Muse drinks and falls asleep on me. It’s just boring.


Now that I’ve retired, I’m starting to think that my best writing time is in the morning after a good night’s sleep — which is, frankly, a surprise to me, since mornings have so long been filled with cursing the alarm clock, fixing or eating breakfast, getting the kids ready for school, getting me ready for work, and then commuting to the office. Me, write in the morning? This does not compute! But there we have it — perhaps the only real epiphany of 2020, and it comes on the last day.

And if there is no such thing as “mere coincidence,” then there have been a few noticeable themes that keep popping up lately. To the same friend, who also complimented my artwork and claimed that she “didn’t have that same outlet,” I wrote:

I’m thinking that I am being called to mentor several of my women friends on letting go of other people’s unrealistic expectations and negative opinions of us (or, really, our perceptions of what their expectations and opinions are, since they’re much more likely to be caught on their own mental hamster wheels, worrying what we think of them than they are having any expectations or opinions at all, of us).


I hid my little drawings for the longest time. When I finally worked on some during Inktober, and did them in the living room while watching TV, then got the nerve to post them on Instagram, I was surprised at how many people liked them. I see amateurish efforts that fail to fully express what I “see” in my head. But my husband liked them, and my sister in law said she’d buy them before buying some $750 paintings we saw at an art exhibit, and people whose artwork I really admire followed me on Instagram! I still don’t think of myself as “an artist” in the way I do as a writer. But neither have I – nor likely will I – dedicate the time and effort in practicing art as seriously as I have writing – over decades! So why should I compare myself to those who have? I have no expectations of my artistic skills, nor does anyone else. I still struggle a little with disappointment when the thing on my paper is so far off the thing in my head, but then I remind myself that I have more than 1000 words with which to describe that thing to you, and even if my sketches are worth only a few words, they’re not my only means of self-expression. Just something different to play with.

New Year’s Resolutions

If they don’t work for you, and you don’t believe in making them, that’s fine. I’m hedging all the bets. New Year’s Day dinner will include pork shoulder, black-eyed peas, sauerkraut, fresh salad, and cornbread. The details of my resolutions are unimportant; what matters is that they are written down in my journal and are already in progress. If you make them, put some thought in them and don’t feel a need to share – but do write them down and commit to them. Make them specific and time-bound, and break them into steps. Make each milestone measurable – not “read more” but “read one book each week for 52 weeks.” Put them just slightly out of reach – make them challenging enough not to bore you into abandoning them, but not so challenging that they defeat you at the first setback. Hold yourself accountable, or ask a friend to do that with you. I have asked a couple of friends to hold me accountable for writing something to enter into a writing contest with the deadline of February 1. Last year, I “got busy” and let that slip past unnoticed.

Don’t let 2021 slide by unnoticed. All the things you were unhappy about in 2020? Make a list. Then break that down into “What can I do to FIX this?” or “How can I make sure this doesn’t happen again?” The answer may be “Not a whole hell of a lot,” or it may just feel that way at first. But sleep on it. Think about it. Get proactively involved – in your own life, your community, politics, volunteering, letter-writing, job-seeking, friend-making. Or let those things go that you can’t control – because they will just suck up all your time and steal your joy. Focus on what you already have the power to do, or figure out what you need to learn or do to have the power you need.

So Tolls the Bell on 2020

So Tolls the Bell on 2020

“Have you made your New Year’s Resolutions?”

“No, should I have?” I don’t know why I feel slightly defensive at the question. “Have you?”

“I’m still thinking about it.” He approaches each resolution as a SMART goal to be tackled and owned, well before the end of the year.

I don’t want mine to be perfunctory. There ought to be some deep thought, some spiritual inner work, some reflection and profound meaning attached to the crafting of resolutions. Perhaps they are not meant to be shared lightly over a sip of champagne at midnight, or dismissed, later in the day, over black-eyed peas and sauerkraut, as we hedge our bets for luck astride the Mason-Dixon line.

For some, it is merely pro forma. They’ll abandon their hastily-scribbled, half-heartedly made resolutions in the blink of an eye, then question why anyone bothers making them, as if all are doomed to fail. There ought to be more gravitas to this “Making of the New Year’s Resolutions.” Some solemn ceremony. Real commitment.

Be a better person, I write, then cross it out. What does “better” look like? Be kinder, I write. I cross that out, too. That should be a continuous improvement effort, not a resolution.

“You’re overthinking this, aren’t you?” He shakes his head and laughs.

“Mm.” I still have four days. Four days to keep last year’s resolution.

I haven’t killed anyone. Yet.


We Are All Essential

We Are All Essential

Asking, “Who is essential?” is the wrong question.

Declaring, “I’m not essential,” is the wrong answer.

We are all “essential” to someone, even if our work is not essential – today – to the continued functioning of our civilization. The question of who should get the COVID-19 vaccine first, and in what order thereafter, is a question for virologists, epidemiologists, and medical ethicists. The correct term is “essential worker” – not “essential person.” Essential workers are the people who take care of the rest of us – who allow us to not go out there and risk close exposure to a deadly pathogen. But if we are not “essential,” then what are they risking their health for?

Adjectives should no be carelessly applied, or turned into nouns – just as people and immigrants are not “illegals,” we do not have some class of humans called, “essentials.”

The media does no one any favors by asking, “Who is essential?” Given they seem determined to fill the airwaves with their blather, 24/7, they could spend an extra second on, “Who is classified as an ‘essential worker’?” or “Which jobs are considered ‘essential’ when determining how the vaccine will be distributed?”

The CDC does a decent job of outlining the plan:

Eager as I am to get vaccinated, I wouldn’t put me at the head of the line. Not because I’m “not essential” but because I’m not out there working in the medical field. I’m not a first responder who is likely to encounter people stricken with COVID-19. I’m not trucking food and toilet paper and PPE cross-country, every day. I’m retired, and I have no school-aged children living at home, but I’m not old enough to be in the high risk age groups. I’m overweight, but not “morbidly obese.” I’ve had cancer, but that’s in the past. My immune system is fine. I’m glad I’m still too young and too healthy, overall, to be in the first group slated to receive the vaccine. Patience has never been one of my virtues, but .impatience is hardly a risk factor for COVID-19.

I’d put my grown children and my grandchild ahead of me, too. Every parent knows that elementary and secondary school is a breeding ground for germs, and those germs get shared more liberally than unwanted carrot sticks from a sack lunch. They’re brought home more reliably than a math worksheet. University students can, for the most part, follow directions and protect themselves, but what kind of a life is it to hole up alone in your dorm room like a mole rat and experience college life via Zoom? I used to joke that having kids in public school was how we develop immunity to “nuisance” diseases, like the common cold. But I remember lining up at school for a slew of required vaccinations. It wasn’t a choice and our parents remembered the devastating effects of smallpox, measles, mumps, rubella, whooping cough, tetanus, and polio too acutely not to consent to our receiving those shots. Fortunately, most people my age don’t have first-hand knowledge of any of those things, thanks to vaccines.

There are a lot of negative and untrue stories out there, concerning vaccines. I’m not going to argue with the anti-vaccination crowd, but participating in large-scale vaccination is one of the prices to be paid for living in civilization with other humans. There are many more lives saved because people took a chance and put their faith in science, rather than risk death by microorganism when there was an effective way to prevent it. I’m one of those people. I’ll get vaccinated against COVID-19 as soon as they’ll let me – to reduce your risks, as well as my own.

But even if I have to wait until March, it doesn’t mean I’m “not essential.” And neither are you. Don’t let the news media convince you otherwise.

My #OneWord365 for 2021

My #OneWord365 for 2021

Do I dare?

I mean, it just feels like tempting fate, at this point. Resolutions – SMART goals – used to work well enough. Specific. Measurable. Aspirational. Reasonable. Time-bound. This #OneWord365 business, though? For several years, for all the good it’s done me to choose a word to serve as a guiding beacon to my intentions, I might as well choose Death, War, or Destruction. It would practically guarantee immortality, peace, and growth.

I’m not good at this. This year’s word? Oh, such a wonderful word, when I chose it in 2019. I even gave a Toastmasters speech about it.  Can’t remember, now, what I blathered on about. The word was #Observant. I suppose if we count #NavelGazing as observant, I have mastered it. I am ready to move on. In all seriousness, I suppose that I have been observant within the four walls of my home. I have observed my husband and the myriad ways he cares for me, for our family, and for our home. I could stand to be more active than observant.

Somewhere in my psyche, there is a disappointed child, pouting. That child got what it deserved, for rudely kicking 2019 as it headed out the door, I suppose. But for that child, 2020 was like Ralphie expecting the Red Ryder Carbine Action 200-shot Range Model air rifle and unwrapping the box to find soap and underwear and a little lump of coal. Unlike some people, the pandemic has not inspired me to learn six new languages, create and care for a sourdough starter, paint the walls (or anything else, for that matter). Like others, it has thrown me for a loop. I am not depressed; I’m just…on hold. Like a plane, circling O’Hare or JFK at Christmas.

I am at least as functional as a snarky coffee mug, and compassionate enough to admit it to my fellow dishware and say that maybe we should just rejoice that we’re still able to hold onto our coffee.
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I am at least as functional as a snarky coffee mug, and compassionate enough to admit it to my fellow dishware and say that maybe we should just rejoice that we’re still able to hold onto our coffee. A sturdy mug needs do no more. It is enough to stand, stalwart among the others, confident that it will be plucked from the shelf, filled to the brim, and warmed to its core – if only it weathers the settling dust, the occasional waterboarding in the dishwasher, the mockery from newer crockery. We don’t need to be glazed over; we need to tell the stories hinted at by our crazing, tiny lines, and cracks.

If #Observant is a way of seeing, I’ve written more poetry this year than I have in a decade, and a few readers seemed to enjoy it – even egged me on to write more of it. I have written or recycled 170+ stories on Medium. That’s paid only slightly better than child labor wages in a third-world country, but this “gamification” of writing has kept me writing. At about a dollar a day, it has paid for the web hosting of this blog that I have, ironically, neglected in favor of it.

As I was cleaning up for the holidays, I ran across the dusty optimism of Writers’ Market 2020, purchased in 2019 – its price now a penance, like an unused gym membership. But it is still there. Are the publishers who are listed in it? Are they still there? I wonder. 2020 has been hard on everyone. We’re not “all in it together,” but there is a common thread that that connects us all, in some way, isn’t there? I run a very small writers group on Slack, for writer-friends, where we can escape the din of rancorous politics and the staticky noise of social media to focus on writing, helping one another out, and keeping each other accountable – if that’s requested – for our stated goals.

I’m grateful for teachers and editors who taught me not to fear the red pen, and for mentor-managers who instilled in me a work ethic and the ability to detach from the product when it came to writing that has spilled over even into blogging and self-publishing. Do your best, be grateful for the editors who keep you from looking stupid in public, and when everyone misses that glaring error and it’s there in print to haunt you forever – let it go. Let it serve as a reminder that perfection is unobtainable. “Better” is a good goal. And “good enough” is truly good enough – for today. The ability to practice observe-and-release, in life, is a gift. It helps break us out of holding patterns, lets us land, so we can take off for new destinations.

To answer the question I posed at the start: Of course I dare.

I am dragging that recalcitrant, pouting child out into the sunshine. “Hello, Brat. Talk to me. Or run across that open field and play. Get out of the corner, stop reading about microbiology and economics – you’re boring yourself to death over there – and stop acting as if the world’s stopped turning, because you know it hasn’t. You’d have flown off its surface, bumped into the gnarly branches of your favorite tree, and had all the oxygen sucked from your lungs while you freeze-dried yourself and shattered into a million sparkling shards, only to melt in your next encounter with a star. So get up and throw yourself down the rabbit holes.”

Rekindling the magic of imagination doesn’t happen with a cutesy spark of inspiration, clearly. My Muse, such as it is, requires reaching in with both hands, rooting around in the brain for it, wherever it’s sulking, then grabbing hold with a determined snarl and giving it a yank.

My #OneWord365? IMAGINE.

Imagine that.