Chicken Wings

I joined hope*writers a couple of weeks ago. This is something I had wanted to do for a few years, but I had put it on the back-burner until now. Hope*writers is a writing community. One of the first steps they ask of you is to take a quiz to help you identify where you are in your writing journey. Then, based on your result their library offers a mind-boggling plethora of online classes/podcasts to choose from.

(Kind of like a big ole tasty bucket of fried chicken to choose from, hence the analogy)

<<<cue anxiety beginning, flap-flap>>>

Launching this new blog is one of the first steps, even though my quiz listed me at The Entrepreneur stage, I definitely had several blocks I’d hop-scotched over from Stage one, The Writer. So I’m back tracking…

Step One: Hello, my name is Sarah…and I am a writer.

Step One, Part B: Obtain your own domain with your name. Okay…

<<<wings beginning to flutter furiously>>>

This internal sensation got me thinking about my hen and how little loft she actually achieves from her zealous wing flapping when she perceives a threat, whether real or a concoction of her sweet, little feathery head and how at times my reactions are quite the same.

<<<so I’m taking a deep breath, muttering a simple prayer, and digging into the bucket for a drumstick instead>>>