Hi! I'm Kelly.

As a writer, I've always been interested in family stories. When I heard of a Satanic cult in my family tree, I thought I'd found the story of a lifetime. Read more.

Rabbit Weather

Rabbit Weather

On the first warm morning in early spring, when the farmers have spread manure on nearby fields and the air is heavy with approaching rain, I step outside, breathe in and think: Rabbit weather. 

I don't know if it's the smell, the temperature, the time of year, or maybe all those things. But something about those mornings conjures a vivid memory: me running out the back door, dressed only in a thin nightgown, to see the baby rabbits in the little hutch against our garage. Mama rabbit was big and hard to hold; her back legs hung down like a bag of sand, and sometimes she nipped. But the baby bunnies were liquid sugar softness, small and warm and fuzzy like just-bloomed flowers. 

We must have gotten rid of the rabbits shortly that. I don't remember anything more. Just that one moment, barefoot in the wet grass, my heart thrumming, mom rushing to get ready for work and me wanting just one more minute, just one more minute with the bunnies.

This morning brought rabbit weather, and it infused me with an optimism and an eager, excited energy that lasted all day. 

I've spent the past week with my head mired in the content strategy of a brand I really like. It has interesting origins and a nuanced personality. I want it to succeed. And so I've been piecing apart every single line of the client's brief, looking for ways to categorize the information and arrange it in a hierarchy that's intuitive and differentiated.

It's the same thing I'm doing for my own book, in a way. Mapping the structure to the hero's journey. Following each little narrative thread to its conclusion. Identifying gaps in my thinking and places where a reader's attention might wane, so I can boost those places with a bit of intrigue or deeper meaning. 

My brain is like a typesetter's tray, sectioned off into hundreds of little boxes. A place for everything and everything in its place. Of course life is not nearly that organized. Nor is this brand, nor my book. And at the end of this Tuesday, I'm tired of wrestling with left-brain thinking. I need to flex myself in the opposite direction. To give myself over, once again, to right-brain ideas and childhood memories and the subconscious abstraction of dreams. 

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Finding a Path to Mindfulness

Finding a Path to Mindfulness

Stop thinking. Start writing.

Stop thinking. Start writing.