Category Archives: Writing

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When we decide to follow our dreams, it will be harder than we thought it would be.

We must orchestrate everything to make sure it happens. This goes for our family life and how we’re able to afford to take the monetary hit.

I like to say I work three jobs, but only get paid for two, but that’s not really true.

I think my writing helps me do the other two.

My writing frees me up and lets me do the other things that help my family. When I’m published and I hopefully don’t have to do those other jobs, I’m not sure what I’ll do with the free time I may have.

Right now, I’m writing more than I ever have and that is what I’ve wanted for the last ten years.

I see the improvement in my writing by get words every day and I see how hard I’m working to make everything work and I’m more proud of what I’m doing than at any time in my life.

I love what I’m doing and more than any other time in my life, I love what I’m doing and how I’m helping the world get better, either through my words or through my actions working for campaigns.

Purpose and Legacy

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It’s in the inactivity of who we are that our minds are clouded by the things we find purpose in.

Finding purpose in our lives is the utmost effective way of living our lives.

We must find purpose in the life we live. We must endure the tragedies, falsehoods and

We must endure the tragedies, falsehoods, and betrayals others set upon us, for it’s in overcoming these that we’ll truly find purpose.

The strength we harbor in our souls will be the mast and sails leading us through the difficulties of discovering our purpose.

Purpose legacy and the endgame of what we need to accomplish is the light at the end of our lives.

Our endgame should be our legacy.

It should be the one thing that differentiates us from others.

Within our souls, we find that the world is how we make it and because of that, those of us who find our purpose will be the leaders of the future.

His…hers…ours…

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Walls fall down, people run, the graphic disturbance of the night is done.The blast, the last man running, 

I see the blast coming, 

I wait for the gun, the muzzle flash, the random gun, 

The damage is done, the life of the man they’ll no doubt talk about.

When they wake up, the night will be eclipsed by the screams and shouts.

I see the flash and I drop, 

His life, my life, their lives and the world stops,

The power of the gun, the words in my mind, the life before me cut out, 

His hers, theirs and ours.

I wait, the bathroom, but he’s there. He’s waiting, the muzzle flash, my life gone, hers…his…theirs.

I wake, but the night is still screaming. The blackness is coming, the pain…it’s almost gone.

I’ll never hold him again, her again.

Another flash, my life gone: hers…his…ours.

Never Letting Go

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pablo (23)

We reach out to the world, trying to discover our soul.

It comes back to us in fits, stuttering and trying to stand.

We abandon what we loved of ourselves in the hope of finding something that was missing, to realize, it was there; we just weren’t paying attention to it.

Some days, weeks and months have been like this lately.

I feel my life, but yet, it isn’t where I want it to be, so I return to what I love about who I am.

I love that I’ve been given the opportunity to write, as much as I want and that my wife and kids support me as much as they do.

I see the gift of writing and being creative standing in front of me. I understand how precious the gift is and wonder why I left it in the first place.

I was chasing what I thought I needed but realized I have what I need. I understand how powerful writing is. I learned that at an early age, but often forget it.

Today, I’m writing something that is truly me, and I love that about it. I create from memories, dreams and thoughts, but now that I’ve fallen in love again, I won’t let this precious gift of writing go again.

Peace,
Bri

Creating…

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pablo (22)

Today, while I sat, reading Neil Gaiman’s new nonfictiony book, sitting next to my wife, who was multi-tasking, an ever-present sketchbook next to her, I watched a conversation.

Our daughter clambered between us to watch my wife’s colored pencils perform.

I don’t often see the interaction of teacher and student, of which I often think of them as.

I’m either reading a new book or writing something of my own.

The rarity of the occasion was more pronounced by the effort our daughter took to watch her mom create, color then create and fill the sketch with more colors.

I love the creativity in our house and the way in which our kids absorb creating through us.

My son crafted a lovely story a while ago. It’s one that I’ve asked him to expand upon and last night, he brought me cover sketches for it.

I told him, “Worry about the story, the cover will come later. If you need help, I’m here.”

I hope it helped him.

I wonder how why some kids don’t create things and I’m reminded of my childhood and having to hide stories I’d written, then I know.