In the 1990s, when I still had small children at home, I went to a writer’s conference where an author presented an in-depth workshop on writing for children. Inspired and wanting to experience more, I went to the library to check out some of her books. Every single one…

When my critique group began blogging nine years ago, WordPress led the industry in providing new bloggers with a good start. You could set up a basic WordPress blog for free. And they offered free courses to help you be a successful blogger. And they had provided a daily blogging…

Today’s helping of Creative Juice is for the writers. If you are like me, you might have a file on your computer called “Blog posts that I really like.” That’s where I save links to articles online that I may want to reread. Sometimes I look in that file for…

Every so often, I try to figure out what kind of posts my readers like best. Unfortunately, WordPress doesn’t provide me an easy way to see which of my posts have the most “likes.” (I have to scroll down the list of posts. At this point, I’ve published 4,410…

If you read last Friday’s Creative Juice, you may have noticed the tutorial for watercolor lettering. I was really excited about it, and I wanted to try it, but decided I needed the brush Smitha was using. I ordered it, and Monday I clicked the link, and I kept getting…

More FOTD.

Today’s prompt is to write a poem of your own that has multiple numbered sections. Attempt to have each section be in dialogue with the others, like a song where a different person sings each verse, giving a different point of view. Set the poem in a specific place that…

I used to write out my creative goals every January. I don’t know how I got out of the habit. The last time I posted them to ARHtistic License was in 2018. Anyhow, I’ve been thinking lately of all the things I want to do in my creative life, and…

Today’s prompt is to make a new poem out of an old Emily Dickinson poem. I chose “A Bird, came down the Walk.” A Drunk Lurched Down the Sidewalk by ARHuelsenbeck A drunk lurched down the sidewalk. He didn't know I was watching him. He chewed a discarded hot dog, then he drank the dregs of a half-empty Mountain Dew can. He hopped a fence as a VW Beetle jumped the curb. His beady eyes appeared spying hastily all around. I offered him a hand, but he spread his arms and flew away.