From my North Carolina Journals · 11 of 11
I wrote this piece in an Abre Tu Boca writing circle with one of my own prompts, almost a full month before I had any idea what was happening with my mom back in North Carolina. When I read it now, it’s as if it was telling me my future.
Listen here for my explanation of all this. I read the writing to you and then analyze the mechanisms inside it as I myself begin to unlock its meaning. Beyond the writing, it’s a journey into the mysteries of the creative process itself.
A prompted write from an Abre Tu Boca Writing Circle, January 4, 2026
She was turned toward the window, so that when I followed the line of her face with my eye, her contour was illuminated as if the sun shone through her, her edges paper-thin.
Something about her was paper-thin. Something in her had been moved over again and again, until it was worn flat, not just thread-bare, but thread-barren.
The window brought her solace. She didn’t know what she looked for, only that it focused her mind away from what was inside.
The dishes still lay scattered, dirty.
The note was still on the table. She found it under the water glass. In her mind, she refolded it, placed it back, like rewinding time, to let the light through water dissolve its words,
while she slid sage and salt under the skin of the chicken, as the screen door snapped shut.As the screen door snapped shut, the light shone through her edges, illuminating the contours of her mind — a light thrown on so that I might read her.
I set my bag down and handed her a glass of water.
If you’d like to write with my style of prompt, my annual Writing Camp is coming up soon. During September, I’ll send you a daily writing prompt—the beginning of a sentence that knocks on the door of your subconscious and immediately activates the writing. You write it at the top of your page and keep going for 10 minutes.
Then, each weekend, you’ll get an editing deep dive—a way of zooming out from the page to observe what emerged and start working more deeply with it.
It’s your way of accessing what I do here.
If you’d like to go back and read all of my North Carolina journals, start here: The Verb that Doesn’t Exist. If you begin there, it will take you all the way through.
