She had big round eyes and soft plump cheeks that beckoned to be pinched. She skipped around, swaying her long brown hair that reached the middle of her back in tangles. Her laughter was a roar and her voice was so powerful, it echoed. She was a wildflower. Because this story is not just my […]
Staying An Artist When We Grow Up
by on October 26, 2013 8 Comments
Creativity can be unpredictable and uncontrollable. At times creativity can seem like a stream that overflows, but there are seasons when the river is transformed into a path of dry sand. Often when I sit down to write, I feel like I’m walking through a barren wilderness, trudging through hot sand. I feel parched. I draw […]
Tracing the Layers Underneath Me
by on September 28, 2013 6 Comments
I‘ve been digging deep into my veins, trying to figure out what flows there. Like an archaeologist scouring for bones, fragments of ancient pottery, and hidden treasures–anything that might reveal something about a place or a person–I’m searching myself, trying to uncover the history that circulates underneath my skin. What is in the layers that […]
Our Perfectly Doomed Christmases
by on December 20, 2012 4 Comments
“There’s nothing like getting hit by a car during your Christmas break to make you miss the clashing personalities, the different perspectives, the loud arguments, the stress and the chaos of family holidays.” By Stephanie Motz Skinner | Twitter: @stephmotz ‘Twas the Christmas season of 2007. Montreal was dressed in white. The snow on the […]
Legacy, It Beckons
by on November 15, 2012 5 Comments
“But the word ‘legacy’ reminds me that my actions, my behavior, my voice will help shape the world in which the next generation of girls will live.” By Stephanie Motz Skinner | Twitter: @stephmotz Conversations at our dining table, like my scrambled eggs, are rarely light and fluffy. It seems so appropriate to me that […]
