Author Archives: Carolyn Dennis-Willingham, Author

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About Carolyn Dennis-Willingham, Author

Author of two published books – No Hill for a Stepper, 2001, and The Last Bordello, 2016, and numerous children's books. Her third novel, Distilling Lies is set in 1928 and will be released on May 9th. A former early childhood specialist, she taught bias-free education to teachers at the local, state, and national levels and applies this fundamental principle in her writing. Whether writing for adults or children, her stories revolve around empowering the readers (and listeners) to believe in their potential, to appreciate diversity, and to believe in the power of imagination. When not on her laptop, she willingly serves as the lap-top for her five young grandchildren. In addition to writing, she enjoys boxboxing, hiking, dancing, strength training, and traveling. Occasionally, she pulls out the oil paints to see what emerges on a blank canvas. In addition to her blogging website, cdwcreations.com, you can find her on Facebook and on Instagram @cdwwrites .

WHEN I WAS

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Admission: I save things. I hoard. Everything that “could” be thrown away, I picture having another purpose, that there still might be some life left hidden within that seemingly useless object.

This 1950s typewriter belonged to my mom. It’s green plastic cover has a large slit. I won’t throw that away either.

I remember my mother typing on this monster, but what she typed remains a mystery. Addresses on letters, perhaps. My older sister used it for school work.

I, too, typed on this (30 pound?) machine – a bit of poetry, a collaborative “screenplay” entitled It Comes From the Heart when I was around fourteen. (It’s awful, but I still have that, too). Each finger-plunk was a major workout and heaven forbid if I ran out of white-out liquid.

Now I have a real, live, computer with easy keyboard action. I don’t need that old typewriter anymore. Am I getting rid of it? Hell, no.

(Besides, it’s too heavy to carry downstairs and out the door.)

Written in Nature

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Ripe, the words,

in skies and seas

in sunset’s linger

in summer’s breeze.

Plump, the words,

in rain-filled clouds

or mist-less air

the view surrounds.

the thoughts arouse.

Spiced, the words,

in rushing streams

in forests deep

with endless dreams.

Find them, hold them, smell them, taste!

Interweave what nature’s graced.

**

(The handwriting in the above photoshopped image belongs to John Steinbeck, author)

Facetiming a very old friend

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#RoaringTwenties #Writing

What was it like in the 20s one-hundred years ago?

Was life more simple then

when it was finally acceptable to apply makeup in public,

to strap a flask of moonshine beneath your dress

and take a sip before voting for the first time?

Did you leave your kitchen (and your new electric icebox) behind,

climb into your new Model T

and rumble off to work outside your home for the first time?

Tell me. How was that new-found freedom?

Did it Roar with jazzy attitude

as you shimmied and twirled

and Charleston-ed your feet toward new opportunities?

I hope so.

You paved the way for me.