Posts by Maddie Lock
A Time for Hope
The wood ducks love to swim into our little cove and waddle into the yard to munch on the acorns our old live oaks drop in abundance. The drakes have gorgeous iridescent plumage with crested heads and distinctive white stripes from the eyes to the end of the crest. The hens are not colorful. Their plumage of browns intermingled with beige offer better camouflage.
Read MoreThe Opposite Shore
As the narrator, I have a roll to fill. The late (and great) Ursula K. Le Guin offers a story in her book on writing, Steering the Craft, that uses the analogy of a boat. Here’s my take on it: our readers climb into a boat with us to journey to the opposite shore.
Read MoreA Silver Lining
As I look forward to 2021, different emotions assail me. Everyone can agree that 2020 has been a sad and frightening year. The whole world discovered it was in a battle. And the battle continues. But now we are over the shock and have girded our loins, determined to win.
Read MoreWriting the Truth
The email from my father began: It is with a heavy heart that I write this… I quickly scanned the German words. My knees buckled as my world plummeted to a depth that had me gasping for air. I understood immediately I had overstepped my writing boundaries.
Read MoreHopes and Plans
My husband and I are packing to go back up to our cabin in the NC mountains for a few weeks. I’m hoping the leaves are red, yellow, and orange by now, my favorite color palette. I plan to sit in the dining room with its 360 degree view of the surrounding Tusquittee mountain range and add the finishing touches to my book. Yes!
Read MoreMagic
The magic of a book that talks directly to us is a feeling like no other. We are validated, soothed, yet excited to feel a part of something bigger than ourselves. Rebecca Solnit once said The object we call a book is not the real book, but its potential, like a musical score or seed. It exists fully only in the act of being read; and its real home is inside the head of the reader, where the symphony resounds, the seed germinates.
Read MoreWho Will Drink My Tears?
I’ve been re-reading The Faraway Nearby by the remarkable Rebecca Solnit. The first time I read my now dog-eared copy was four years ago when I became fascinated with the idea of writing personal nonfiction, especially memoir. I picked it up and put it down several times before I was able to settle in and focus.
Read MoreThe Cabin
We dreamed of building our own mountain settlement, of designing and crafting solid log homes that could become family retreats. We found a mountaintop, plopped down our savings and cajoled a local bank to give us a loan and began clearing roads. We discovered a company in Michigan that hauled in huge logs and assembled them with a crane.
Read MoreOur Sojourn in Solitude
While contemplating a quiet (as in pack my bags and slink off, maybe forever) disappearance, I came across a piece about Monhegan Island in the Travel section of the paper. As I read about the fierce beauty of the cliffs and the muted stillness of Cathedral Woods, a solution presented itself: a solitary retreat.
Read MoreA message from COVID-19
As seems to be the case with everyone, my thoughts have been consumed by an organism we cannot see, touch or feel until it makes us ill, or kills us. Somewhere in the fear and frustration of understanding that my life will be different for a while—in ways I already dislike and many I have yet to find out—came a thread of thought I’d like to share.
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