Megan Elaine

Storyteller // Writer // Creative

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Since I don’t get out as much as I normally do, I have to take my chances when I get them. This means wearing my new red dress while driving with the windows down, listening to @margaret_glaspy loudly over the speakers, delivering homemade bread to the grandparents, and using curbside pickup at my favorite bookstore. These are different days but still finding the joy. #thatsdarling #targetstyle #vscocam

Spontaneous storms that last a few minutes in one place, and then they’re gone, moving right along, getting where they need to go and not stopping except for one.

“I hope you will go out and let stories happen to you, and that you will work them, water them with your blood and tears and your laughter till they bloom, till you yourself burst into bloom.” - Clarissa Pinkola Estés

Coffee and jeans on a Sunday. Not pictured, windows open, church bells ringing, and a full to-do list for the week ahead.

I’ve been writing by hand on loose-leaf paper for over a week. During April I barely wrote any words. I had no words to say. I tried to play with words but I ended up just tiring myself out. At the beginning of May, something snapped, I don’t know what it was. I still didn’t have something clear or purposeful to say, but I grabbed a stack of loose-leaf paper, a pen, and I just started writing. Since then, I‘ve written through the stack of paper I grabbed. Now there are scribbles on both the front and back of the once white canvas. I’ve been holding tight to writing words down on paper. I don’t know why exactly, but there is something grounding and humbling about scribbling on a page that will go unpublished and unseen. Instead of getting lost in the waves of emotions or worry that come with uncertainty and waiting, it helps me find peace. These words are for me, to help me process all and everything. I’m not writing a novel, an article, or even a post that will be published on my blog. These words will probably always be tucked away and unseen, at least for a long while. But at the very least, I’m writing. I’m writing for me. I count that as a success. The words might not be good, but I’m keeping the clock wound, the figures limber, the stream flowing, so when it’s time, when it’s right, when I have something to say, I’ll be ready.

Beautiful eggs.

Hello, I’m Megan

I’m a storyteller and writer in Indianapolis, Indiana. I’ve loved writing stories since I could pick up a pin and scribble on paper. This blog is a compilation of personal essays, off-the-cuff posts, shop shots of midwest living, and a portfolio of my freelance bylines. Welcome to my little corner of the internet.

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