I love the word petrichor, such a pleasure to see it so many times, and to read all of your interpretations of the photo.

This week, I want to draw your attention to Cheney’s piece, The Mansion on the Hill:

He stood on the hill, gazing up to the house that was illuminated with each flash of brilliant lightning. It had been storming throughout his daylong journey, and he breathed in the sweet petrichor before burying the tip of his cane into the the soft, muddy ground and climbing the length of the drive to the door.

I love the sense of beginning here, right down to the character literally propelling himself towards the story.

Then there is the loveliness of Tara’s opening line, from Winning the Rat Race:

Drops of rain lingered on the pine boughs, simmering diamonds among emerald filigree.

I encourage everyone to visit as many linked pieces as possible, and leave the authors a note. We all benefit from one another’s support and feedback!

petrichor

noun: a pleasant smell that frequently accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather

and

Yesterday she spoke of needing backup. Writers aren’t the only ones. Editors need backup, too. Specifically, your editors. We need some help keeping this place running, and who better to help us than someone from our beloved community?

We are looking for a volunteer (we’re all volunteers around here, in case anybody’s wondering) Assistant Editor to start in mid June.

Our ideal AE will handle posting WoE content to Facebook, Twitter, and Google+ (did you guys know we have a page over there?) on a daily basis, writing two pieces of original writing/community related content per month, and reading/commenting on weekly Write at the Merge linkups as a member of the editorial team.

While we can’t compensate you monetarily, we will give you a by-line and bio here on the site, and you can use Write on Edge as a resume line item and a reference. We want to help you build your online portfolio!

Interested in joining our team? Drop us a line by June 1, and tell us a little about you and why you want to be part of this crazy site!

The same can be true with writing. Writing is a very solitary act – unless one counts the voices in one’s head – but there are many times when you need backup. One is not enough. Two is barely enough. It’s important to build a support network around you – someone to talk you off the I’m-Going-to-Burn-this-Thing ledge, someone to be an extra pair of eyes when your own are crossing, someone to edit, someone to beta read, someone to brainstorm plot lines, and someone to occasionally offer you a drink and a night away from your screen. When I read the dedication pages of books, I’m rarely shocked to see how very many people go into writing a book. Without backup, an author would go mad in a week.

How do you feel about your backup? Have you found it? Are you looking?

We offer two items for a prompt response. You can use either, or both, to inspire your response. Fiction, creative non-fiction, and poetry are welcome, and there’s a 500 word limit for responses. Pieces that are part of a serial are fine, but for our linkers who aren’t regular readers, make sure they work as standalone scenes.

The prompt closes Thursday night a 11:59pm Pacific.

Images are a favorite around here, and we all love words, so this week I’m giving you one of each:

petrichor

noun: a pleasant smell that frequently accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather

and

Megan Eccles from Love Letters 7.10 writes about the moments that bridge the gap between memory and grief.

As she stripped the house to its bones, she dwelt on the fact that she was an orphan now. Her father had passed away three years prior, a heart attack, sudden and shocking. That was a hard year. The realization that her parents were no longer young was a blow that Cecelia wouldn’t have time to recover from. Cecelia’s mother had received the news of her cancer, terminal, only a few weeks before. They had clutched hands as they remembered him in the front rows of the pews, as friends and strangers told the wonderful things about him. It wouldn’t be the last time.

Read more at “The Forever Song“

Ann Bennett writes about the complicated nature of childhood friendships and the line between being nosy and neighborly in “Children’s Arguments.”

If you haven’t had a chance to read this week’s offerings, take a few minutes to catch up with your fellow writers.

I apologize Write on Edge. I absolutely spaced this week and didn’t schedule the Weekend Linkup OR the Week 20 Wrap Up for Write at the Merge. The wrap up will post tomorrow morning, but for now…

Welcome to the Weekend Linkup! The linkup is a place to link up your favorite piece of writing from the week, whether it’s a new post or something you wrote for another prompt or Tuesday’s musings on how important ice cream is during summer months. There are no word limits, no topic restrictions, and no prompts.

Please try to visit as many as possible, particularly the ones in front of and behind your link. Thanks, and happy reading!

Running, story research, writing, character development, sleep.

All were set aside. I found myself missing them desperately, but I also realized how quickly rust can grow on those parts of ourselves we cultivate so carefully. Each night it became easier to ignore the moss growing on my blog, to leave my notebook in my tote bag for another day. My head was tired and filled with other things, and I slept as late as possible instead of crawling out of bed to run in the darkness.

But the rust is starting to stiffen my head and stiffen my mood, and I know part of the reason discontent is becoming commonplace is that I haven’t been taking any time to take care of myself and the things that help me distinguish myself between me and the role I play in the wheel of my household.

A few times last week I let myself fall into novels and pick up my pen to jot lines and stories and connections between characters in a story that consumed me for a while. I could feel the hesitation in my voice, not aloud, but the voice that dances from my head to the words on the page, and I know the inactivity has taken its toll.

This week I promised myself I would take time each day to write, even if it’s only for fifteen or twenty minutes, and by write I mean give life to the stories that still unfold behind my eyes when I take a few minutes to breathe. This promise feels a little self-indulgent, a little presumptuous, because I know that all writers are busy, that all writers have to struggle to fit writing into their lives.

But if you’ve found yourself putting writing at the low end of your to-do lists lately, play along with me and write a little each day this week. If you’ve been racking up words lately? Rock on, writers, rock on.

Do you ever get out of the practice of writing?

The link will be open until 11:59 PST on Thursday. Happy Writing!

The first part of this week’s prompt is the word: orphan. Please feel free to use any definition of the word for inspiration.

The second half of the prompt is an image:

This image courtesy of F3D3.86 via Flickr Creative Commons

Settle in and read as many as possible, especially the links before and after yours, and leave a comment to say hello.

Happy Saturday!

Baby, instant soup doesn’t really grab me today. Today I need something more substantial: a can of beans or black eyed peas, some Nescafe and ice, a candy bar, a falling star, or a reading from Dr. Seuss.

And this image, courtesy of my drive to my son’s school.

We are lucky to have some new voices linking up with us, as well as some returning old friends. To all of you, you are what makes this community! Welcome. And thank you.

Now for the spotlight:

Stacey of Stacey’s Mothering Moments took my breath away with her ficional, but brutally truthful, look at the dark moments of mothering, in 5 a.m..

Her head bobbed a little too much and the infant stirred. She shushed and rocked and was satisfied when the infant smiled in her sleep. She should enjoy that, she thought, but somehow all she felt was relief that this little person wasn’t awake.

Shreya at My Ramblings examined the price of going home again in The Cherry Blossoms.

Please take a few minutes to explore the link ups, especially those whose writing you’re not familiar with. You may discover something truly wonderful.