Sew Melissa Writes

For being a perfect stranger, Wren had never been gladder to see the husband and wife walk in on Christmas eve and be seated in the tables she was assigned to. He looked frail and walked a bit slower but seemed healthy. She looked concerned but still was smiling brightly as if the world was all fine and dandy for her. Wren dropped off the tray she was carrying and rushed directly to their table.  "Hey! How are you feeling?"  He sighed. "Like I'll die if I have to eat another plate of hospital food, never mind my ticker." He chuckled and picked up the menu. "Sam, remember..." His wife ticked the menu down with her finger. "The diet."  "Yes, I remember." He sighed. "I'll take the chicken salad, no dressing, with water."  Wren smiled and scribbled it down.  His wife looked over her menu. "Pulled pork sandwich with macaroni and baked beans, and sweet tea, please."  Wren wrote it down. "Your daughters didn...

The Christmas season was one Wren never looked forward to. Being an atheist meant she could have found much better ways to spend the month of December than listening to Jingle Bells  and Silver Bells  and the annoying little bell over the door in the restaurant where she worked.  But there were some days when she genuinely hated the month all the more so for the impatient, rude customers who seemed to think that Christmas was their perfect excuse to demand quicker service and a better attitude from her at the end of her shift- and this went double-time for the Sunday crowd. Wren was used to the church people coming in droves on Sundays, and they were, for the most part, decent tippers, even if those tips often came wrapped in those little papers throwing a fiery hell and peaceful heaven in her face. She could tolerate them long enough to give a fake smile and pick up the cash they left for her.  However, today was not one of those days.  On the first Sunday of t...

Let's just start with... no, that isn't my dog. It's a stock photo. Y'all know I'm a cat person. Writer's block is so  fun.  Especially the kind that lasts, y'know, months. I've been in a creative writing freeze since probably December. I tried to do some minor writing on several books, but it just wasn't working.  Then I kind of figured out that I wasn't going places or doing things to give me new ideas, and the lack of interaction with people meant my people writing abilities were diminished down to a speck of dust on the bottom of a vault floor.  Not fun. Thankfully, I've been getting out more, doing more, and I'm slowly building up steam again! It's taking time but I wrote an entire chapter in one night, and it wasn't even horrible when I read it again.  There are plenty of days where my mind has plenty of idea and I have plenty of time to write, but I still don't, and that's okay, too. It's better for me to write ...