KJ Aartila
Stories (297)
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Fiction vs. Non-fiction vs. Poetry
For me, writing fiction is more challenging than writing non-fiction or poetry, so I am inclined to ask myself ‘Why?’ Writing fiction seems to come so naturally for some. I, personally, have always found fiction writing hard to grasp, wondering how authors can develop a compelling story seemingly out of thin air?
By KJ Aartila3 years ago in Journal
Adulting
Stepping into the responsibilities of being an adult comes at different ages for different people for a variety of reasons. It includes, among many things, living on your own (with or without roommates - it’s about financial responsibility), making purchasing choices based on what you can afford, while also considering the future, and earning your own income to cover your expenses. It often means making sacrifices where needs are considered before wants.
By KJ Aartila3 years ago in Journal
Unspoken
I pulled another box from the closet with sigh. I was so mad at her. I clenched my hands into fists and grimaced. I pummeled the box briefly before opening it. No, no - of course she didn’t die on purpose, of course I was sad. I was devastated and wished I could take back the last bitter words I said. I loved her so much, and missed her like crazy. She died thinking I hated her; eyes glaring, my face twisted in an ugly image because she said “No” to me in the morning before she left for work.
By KJ Aartila3 years ago in Fiction
Breaking Tradition
When I grew up, we attended huge family gatherings for Thanksgiving. Most were direct family, which was quite large as it was, but often included many shirt-tail relatives and friends. It was fun. Growing up in the Midwest, the fare included a lot of creamy, sugary, butter-laden dishes. And one Aunt always brought the candied yams - Yuck! But a lot of people like them. We always had apple/banana salad in honor of my Grandmother who had passed. It was gross, and I wasn’t alone in my distaste of it, made with apples, bananas, lettuce, gluttonous amounts of sugar mixed with mayo or Miracle Whip. When I got old enough to voice an opinion, I refused to eat it anymore, inspite of the vocalizations of my Aunts telling me I must eat it and like it unless I really didn’t love my grandma. I loved my Grandma very much and she wouldn’t make me eat that crap!
By KJ Aartila3 years ago in Families
