vanwestervelt
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The dust is beginning to settle following the attacks in Paris, as moments of shock have turned to hours and days of grief and contemplation. Our disbelief has turned to a variety of emotions: sadness, frustration, and even anger. In the aftermath we are caught between the struggle to do something meaningful and to return…
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Earlier today, I had my final class with my seniors. This was the third of three groups that I have had to say goodbye to in as many days. Very sad to say farewell to some very fine individuals; I have been with many of them for 2, 3, and even 4 years. Before the…
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Hi. I read a piece this weekend by a former student of mine and now fellow writer/author. Amanda, like a few others I know, is really digging deep and writing authentically (here’s the piece I’m talking about). She made me turn the mirror on myself and see if I practice what I preach in my…
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photo: rus vanwestervelt, http://www.baltimorewriter.wordpress.com, copyright 2015. Please seek permission if you wish to use.
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Yesterday, I published my short story, The Christmas Rose. It’s been less than 24 hours since I shared it with my readers, and I wanted to answer a few questions about why I wrote it. Q: The story is pretty long — almost 8,000 words. Most people aren’t reading pieces that take more than a…
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“The Christmas Rose” By Rus VanWestervelt, December 2014 If you would prefer to download ‘The Christmas Story” as a PDF file, you may do so HERE. Dedicated to Patrick and Sandra, whose sons Ryan and Danny, respectively, passed away far too early in their young lives. May their spirits, and their love, live…
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I was absolutely struck with this grave at an old Potter’s Field burial ground in Carroll County, MD. I couldn’t stop the run of possible stories that were developing as I kneeled beside this broken headstone. Where does this image take you?
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I am fascinated with the trends on my social media feeds, or at least the ones that Facebook and other social networking sites chooses for us. If somebody with a pretty strong presence in my feed rails about the injustices of customer service, it seems as if it is nearly always followed by a run…
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I do not know whether to trip over the light of the moon, Or walk gently along the beams that find their way, A cool, quarter-million miles to where I stand This invitation to abandon stress, release the burdens, and follow play. I marvel at its simplicity, Framed in the silhouette of a Maple tree’s…
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I spent the afternoon at Prospect Hill Cemetery here in Towson, six acres of burial grounds on preserved land just feet from the hectic circle joining five of Towson’s busiest streets. I am working on a feature that will be published September 10, just two days from the 200th anniversary of the Battle of Baltimore.…
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