This is a story that was published a year or so ago in "Kalliope" a journal for and by women. I think they're defunct now. At any rate, this is one of my favorites. I'd entirely forgotten about it until a friend of mine was digging on the site and re-earthed it. I like the poetic feel. Most of my stuff lately is comedic, but sometimes, I like the lyrical quality of words. I wanted, here, to write a story about understanding, and loss, and longing...and this is the result. Hope you enjoy it.
I was Mrs. Nice Girl when I was married: quiet, submissive, and just plain gray. Now, I just want to be Tanya: complex, colorful, quirky Tanya. So. Mrs. Nice Girl? Forget it. Forget it! Here’s where I find my voice.
Me, basically throwing a tantrum, going off on why love is easier for men.
I'll post a few more chapters here, but if you've read Blunder Woman, if you like my work, one way to help out is to purchase "Easy Does It" by Tanya Eby on Amazon.
I'm starting to get that tingle again. Not in any sexual way, though I suppose if some Freudian were analyzing me they'd think it was exactly in that sort of way
y the sounds of the hooves on her gravel driveway, she counted at least five horses, though there may have been more Extinguishers on foot. Attracting attention during the Change was unwise, but she still wanted to see. Her smooth fingers parted the blinds less than a breath apart.
Light the Liquor, Swirl the Flame...