Where Thoughts Meet Dreams
An Oasis for Storytellers
We tell stories, write about stories and discuss the writing life. Join us in that place where the self, desire and change collide—where thoughts touch dreams.
A Pediatrician and a Translator Walk Into A Bar...
We met in Novel Writing Class. A 60-year old African American Pediatrician and a 23-year old Argentinian-German Translator. Four years later we’re close friends, writing collaborators, and unrepentent story nerds. On this site we’ll share our writing and our thoughts on storytelling.
Our mix of personal essays, short stories, and flash fiction. Stuff happens. We write about it all.
The tools of the writing trade—from structure to software. How storytellers put it all together.
The Writing Life
Enjoying the struggles of characters doing their own thing, yet still finally writing the end.
Our Featured Projects
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Sign up for our newsletter. We’ll share tips, tools and insights into the storytelling process. From software selection, discovery writing vs outlining, finding your tribe, and knowing when to release your inner editor. From behind the scenes with a static idea to fingers flying across the keyboard. Let’s take that journey together.
The Year That Shall Not Be Named
It's April 2021. We've just finished THAT year. The year that stopped the world, ended and disrupted many lives, careers and livelihoods. The year that trust and hope were hard to find. As if the Covid19 Pandemic were not bad enough, as if the raw scab of this...
The Three Kitchens of My Life
“Over the years, the kitchens I grew up in and around continued to draw me in, like a moth to a flame, as though I might recapture whatever innocence I’d lost in that warm, fragrant space.” Sasha Martin My Childhood Kitchen Yes, it was small. A small rectangle that if...
The Manager of the First Draft
There’s a famous saying or rule amongst writers: The first draft is just for yourself; don’t show it to anyone. Anyone; especially family and friends. Yes, first drafts are horrible in every possible sense imagined: it’s disorganized, it has grammar mistakes, has a...
A Morning in an Oxnard Hotel
I stepped on the grass into the open golf course. The silver morning mist under my Converse's darkened part of its cloth with every step I took and I felt that coolness brushing my socks. The big birds appearing and disappearing in between and their singing resonating...