Category Archives: Writing

Return and Renewal

After dumping that saddest post on you last time, I thought I would share something positive. I think Perry has sent me presents from beyond the rainbow bridge.

Before I leave you with these images of renewal, let me say that I lost my mind and ordered the fanciest cremation package, a cardstock photo of Perry from Shutterfly, and a copy of Curious George Goes to An Ice Cream Shop, the book I used to read Perry every day when he was at the rescue. I’ll clear off a shelf in the kitchen near my computer for these items, including his ashes.

The mamas and babies below remind me of the year that my father and my cat Mac died. My father died on May 14 and Mac on June 28. After my father died, a hummingbird returned to the nest where she had just raised a pair of twins and laid another two eggs. I got to video her teaching one of her chicks to fly. I re-published the lyric essay/flash nonfiction story I wrote about these events on Substack: Leaving, Changing, Returning

And now this year:

First there was the mama quail and her huge covey of chicks. Daddy not available at the time of this video.

Then the gardener showed me the hummingbird mama on her nest right outside our door. See how she’s built it on the underside of a lantern.

hummingbird mama on her nest

Later, the gardener told me where to find the mourning dove (how appropriate) nest on top of a patio speaker. Look closely to see two babies sitting in the nest. Sorry the video keeps moving too far down.

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Eden Robins: Isn’t it Time to Own Your Own Life?

Today I am handing over the keys to this blog to my dear IRL friend romance novelist Eden Robins who is sharing a guest post about something close to her heart. Feel free to share this blog post with anyone you think might want to own their own life!

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 Own Your Own Life

Every person gets to ask themselves this:
“Who am I, who do I want to be, and how do I choose to be in this moment?”

Own your own life.

That’s an underlying theme in the novels I write and it’s my mission in guiding others as a life coach.

I’ve been asked a number of times what I mean by the phrase, “own your own life”. My answer is what you might expect. It means you get to decide the kind of life you live today, tomorrow and for the rest of your days.

Okay, so now I’ve answered the question.

We’re done here, right?

Doesn’t everyone own their own life? After all, they’re the ones living it. Who else would own your life but you?

The answer may seem simple but, as I’ve learned over several decades on this earth, simple does not always mean easy.

Nevertheless, it’s important to understand exactly who’s running your life.

Why?

If who you believe you are is based on how others see you, or how you imagine they’re seeing you, then you’re not running your own life. You’re running on the hamster wheel of other people’s expectations, or your perception that they have those expectations.

Owning your own life starts with understanding who you are and what’s most important to you (aka your values). As a life coach, I help empower people to fully discover and embrace themselves and their values so they can take charge of and live their own best life. This empowerment can lead to a better job, healthier and happier relationships, an improved quality of life, smoother transitions and more confidence, courage, consistency and clarity in pursuing dreams and goals.

Life coaching isn’t about telling people what to do. Rather, it’s about guiding them to an understanding of what they already sense about themselves but haven’t fully settled into yet.

Sometimes, settling into the truth can be the hardest obstacle to overcome.

I know that because I’ve experienced it myself.

Well into my fifties, I decided to become a life coach. Yet, I couldn’t even bring myself to say, “I’m a life coach”. I’d use terms like “mentor”, “sponsor” or “guide”.

“Life coach” felt too expansive, too formal and way beyond how I saw myself. I was unable to reconcile who a life coach was with who I was. I was convinced I didn’t have what it took to do the job.

Even after I received my life coaching certification, those old, overused “you’re not enough” recordings played repeatedly in my head…

All that volunteer work didn’t make me a life coach. So what if I received a certification in life coaching? That didn’t mean anything. So what if I had over a decade of experience? That didn’t count because I hadn’t charged money for my services. You’re too old. It’s too late.

The negative chatter droned on incessantly for over two years after I received my certification. I realize now that this time in between was valuable because my beliefs began shifting and sharpening as my idea of what it meant to be a coach evolved and became clearer.

I hired other coaches to work with me. I also studied coaching by taking classes, attending workshops, and researching others in my field. All the while, I continued my volunteer coaching. I grasp now that I was progressing during that time because I had made the choice to be curious and stay open to change even when mired in self-doubt.

In other words, I decided to dig into and face the truth about myself in a way that eventually led to an important question.

What if I AM enough?

That simple, quiet question grew louder and louder in my mind until I could no longer ignore it and decided to answer it by asking another question.

What does it mean to be a life coach?

That question changed everything for a few reasons.

First, it cracked open my resistance to accepting the truth about myself, which became just enough of an opening to let my curiosity bloom. Second, I realized that those two years following my certification provided me with the opportunity to explore and learn the answer. And third, timing played a big part. I believe that if I hadn’t spent those years learning, staying curious, and questioning if, perhaps, I was enough, I might still be sitting on the fence rather than taking action.

My curiosity helped me know in my gut the answer to the question, “What does it mean to be a life coach?”

My answer was a knowing deep in my gut that declared, “I hold everything I need to be a life coach inside of me right now.”

That shift from resistance to curiosity led me to a new awareness of myself and helped me become ready to face the truth of who I was.

Every person gets to ask themselves this: “Who am I, who do I want to be, and how do I choose to be in this moment?”

Owning your own life is ultimately about realizing that you have power over the life you live because you get to choose who and how you want to be every second of living it. That power is always there, no matter your age, the people around you, or what’s happening in your world.

I’d like to leave you with this truth-filled reminder by the extraordinarily talented author, Alice Walker:
“The most common way people give up their power is by thinking they don’t have any.”

Through my novels and my coaching, my goal has been to remind you of this simple, but powerful truth. You do and always have had the choice to own your own life. And don’t worry. If you aren’t sure how to walk that path of self-awareness and empowerment, I’ve got your back.

I once lived a disempowered life, and I know without a doubt that I can help you, as I’ve helped others, rediscover the confidence, courage, clarity, and power you’ve had inside you all along.

Isn’t it time to own your own life?

Eden Robins is a certified life coach, best-selling author, and owner of her own life. When not writing edge of your seat adventures, Eden helps people take charge of their life by taking charge of their own thoughts. Want the latest tips and tools for creating a life you love? Sign up for Eden’s Own Your Own Life newsletter here.

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The “Cottage” in Scrap

This week, Ashley at Cozy Home Delight reviewed Scrap: Salvaging a Family. 

[The book] brings up that complicated space where grief, resentment, anger, love, and even forgiveness all exist at the same time. The book does not try to simplify those feelings or resolve them neatly. It allows them to exist together, which felt very honest.

I thought I’d share a photo related to my memoir. I write about the cottage my father bought for us to reburbish. This is what it looked like near the beginning, although you really can’t see some of the details I describe in the book. But it gives you what I saw when we first pulled up outside it.

This cottage came with a dirt floor which had been applied over the old linoleum. And yet somehow my father supposedly found a pair of pristine white ice skates with red pompoms in my size in the dirt crawl space (Michigan cellar) underneath.

Tour Schedule:

March 21: Joy Neal Kidney (review)

March 23: Liz Gauffreau, (review)

March 24: Marie Ann Bailey, (review)

March 25: John W. Howell, (excerpt)

March 30: Miriam Hurdle, (companion story)

March 31: Review Tales (review)

April 2: the bookworm (review)

April 9: Ashley’s Books, Cozy Home Delight (review)

April 13: What’s That Book About (guest post)

April 15: Tabi’s Thoughts (review)

April 23: Lavender Orchids (review)

April 27: The Reading Bud (review)

May 4: Chelsea’s Books (review)

Mary 4: Smorgasbord (excerpt)

May 7: The Reading Bud (interview)

May 14: True Book Addict (guest post)

May 19: True Book Addict (review)

May 21: The Book Connection (review)

Follow the tour with the hashtag #ScrapSalvagingFamily

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Filed under #ScrapSalvagingFamily, Book Review, ELJ Editions, Family, Family history, Flash Nonfiction, flash nonfiction, hybrid memoir, Memoir, Nonfiction, SCRAP: SALVAGING A FAMILY, Scrap:Salvaging a Family, Writing

Poetry Mentions

Happy National Poetry Month!

While I think of my new memoir Scrap as being hybrid (a mix of genres, such as flash, poetry, playscript, essay) with flash the predominant genre, I thought I’d look at references to poetry in the book.

I mention how much I loved Edna St. Vincent Millay poetry when I was young. This poem, which she wrote when she was nineteen years old, I listened to over and over again on an LP album.

“Renascence” is a dramatic poem, perfect for reading aloud, much different from the short and pithy Emily Dickinson poems I also read in my late teens. Here is one I remember reading in high school lying on my bed:

If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;

If I can ease one life the aching,

Or cool one pain,

Or help one fainting robin

Unto his nest again,

I shall not live in vain.

I also mention Omar Khayyam, not for his poetry, which I didn’t know at that age, but because I knew of him and his Rubaiyat and ate dinner at a restaurant named after the poet. Khayyam was a Persian poet who lived one thousand years ago.

sample from THE RUBAIYAT

Most significantly in Scrap is a reference to Anne Sexton and “The Starry Night.” Here is the poem:

The Starry Night

“That does not keep me from having a terrible need of—shall I say the word—religion. Then I go out at night to paint the stars.” Vincent Van Gogh in a letter to his brother

The town does not exist
except where one black-haired tree slips
up like a drowned woman into the hot sky.
The town is silent. The night boils with eleven stars.
Oh starry starry night! This is how
I want to die.
It moves. They are all alive.
Even the moon bulges in its orange irons
to push children, like a god, from its eye.
The old unseen serpent swallows up the stars.
Oh starry starry night! This is how
I want to die:
into that rushing beast of the night,
sucked up by that great dragon, to split
from my life with no flag,
no belly,
no cry.
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That poem is depressing with its dark sky and its dark theme, but remember what the official 2026 National Poetry Month poster tells us: “Even if the darkness preceds and follows us, we have a chance, briefly, to shine.” You can read about Arthur Sze, the poet responsible for that quote in his poem “The Chance,” here: Arthur Sze. The poem here: THE CHANCE

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What’s in the Collage on the Cover of Scrap?

I’m very annoyed with Substack. On Substack in addition to writing posts like on WordPress, you can post quick little notes which have a different feel than a post. But this morning after I posted a note I discovered that I couldn’t comment on other people’s posts and notes. So annoying. I tried a couple of fixes, but I have had so many things interfering with my time lately that I’m at the screw-it stage of social media repairs.

My mom’s financial and medical affairs continue to take up a lot of time, but also both the Gardener and I have had some health stuff going on. And, really, every day something new in the house needs fixing. I can see why my dad always wanted to move to a brand new house after we had been in a home for a few years.

Meesker’s ashes and pawprint came home to us last week. I also ordered a pawprint for my son because Meesker had been his cat to begin with. I still feel some PTSD about Meesker dying at home although I wasn’t here when it happened. Maybe that’s been even worse for me. Not being here with him.

Perry is also hanging out with us more than usual. I think he probably discovered Meesker passed away on the bathroom floor before our pet sitter did. A couple of days after we got home, the gardener and I went out for a few hours and when we got back Perry ran up to us excitedly than looked disappointed when he saw Meesker was not with us.

Here’s what I posted today over at Substack. It has to do with SCRAP that will be officially released on March 20, 18 days from now :).

The collage on the cover of my forthcoming memoir-in-flash, Scrap (ELJ Editions), is by Lorette Luzajic. Every item on the cover shows up in Scrap: Salvaging a Family.

Take a look at that red tomato pincushion, for instance. You’ve probably seen one just like it, especially if anybody in your household has ever sewn. Why are so many pincushions in the shape of tomatoes? Here’s an article that explains.

The Mystery of the Tomato Pincushion has been Solved

(And if your pincushion has a little strawberry attached to the tomato it’s filled with emery so you can sharpen your pins and needles). I had to look up emery. It’s “a dark granular mineral that consists of corundum with iron oxide impurities (such as magnetite) and is used as an abrasive” (merriam-webster.com)

You can still pre-order the book at the publisher’s site (and it might be a couple bucks cheaper than it will be on Amazon):

PRE-ORDER SCRAP

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Infectious Joy

This winter has been so stressful. But watching Alysa Liu’s GOLD skate really cheered me up.

WOWSA.

WATCH ON YOUTUBE

MILAN, ITALY – 19 FEBRUARY 2026: Gold medalist Alysa LIU of Team United States poses for a photo during the medal ceremony for the Women’s Single Skating Free Skating at the Olympic Winter Games Milano Cortina 2026 Milano Ice Skating Arena on February 19, 2026 in Milan, Italy Photo by YantsImages – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=184544074

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Christmas Magic

Looking for a happy holiday romance? Check out Eden Dow Robins’s new Christmas release available in paperback and kindle versions. And inside find a little Easter egg in the form of my book Rooted and Winged!

https://www.amazon.com/Frost-Happily-Forever-After-Holiday/dp/B0G64ZSWC7

There’s more, too, but I don’t want to share it before you have read Frost!

Summary

“A small town, two frozen hearts, and a little Christmas magic…

Esme Gerard decided spending the holidays at her favorite place on earth was just what she needed. Once known as the most wicked wild west town in America, Jericho Ridge had been her asylum for more than a decade and was the perfect respite when her heart couldn’t risk taking one more hit.

Until Jack.

Their first encounter left her craving more. Something about him drew her closer. No matter how much she tried to tell herself she wasn’t ready, her heart told a different story.

Jack De Vine had priorities. As a single dad, his daughter was at the top of the list. Second was a secret legacy he had a sworn duty to protect. Third was the winery he and his family ran. Dating was at the very bottom. Ever since his ex-wife left him and their child years ago without a backward glance, he’d kept his heart stored in ice.

Until Esme.

From the first moment he saw her, he was drawn to her. That sent alarm bells off in his head. He knew he should steer clear of her, yet he kept looking for excuses to get closer.”

I hope your holidays are joyful!

 

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The Wonderful Feature Called the Poetry Bookshelf

I hope my American friends had a wonderful Thanksgiving. Mine was wonderful as my kids took on most of the work, and I got to spend a lot of time with my “best friend,” my little grandson. The gardener and I watched him the day before and the day after the holiday, as well as spending time on Thanksgiving Day itself. The day before we took him to the clock shop because he is passionate about clocks. And he sat down to explore our keyboard.

If you don’t celebrate Thanksgiving, I hope you still have much to be grateful for.

Enjoy the concert:

One of the Thanksgiving blessings of my life are writing friends and supporters. Case in point: A huge thank you to Editors Juan Re Crivello and Barbara Leonhard for putting my full-length poetry collection Rooted and Winged on the Poetry Bookshelf of LatinosUSA.

If you haven’t read my book, please check out this link if you have the time.

https://latinosenglishedition.wordpress.com/2025/11/30/featuring-rooted-and-winged-by-luanne-castle/

Enjoy your transition time into the holiday season!

P.S. I’m also grateful for decent medical care as I prep for this week’s colonoscopy. Yay!!!

 

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A Shadorma for #TankaTuesday Poetry Challenge No. 37, The Veil, 11/04/25

This week’s #TankaTuesday syllabic poetry prompt is by Yvette Calleiro. She asked for poems using the image of veil. While this is a great idea I learned something or maybe noticed is a better word about syllabic poetry. It’s very hard to approach subjects obliquely or “slant” (credit to Emily Dickinson) with syllabic forms.

I chose shadorma (possibly Spanish or of modern origin) for the form. This is a six line poem of 3-5-3-3-7-5 line lengths. I wanted a form that didn’t require the subject to be about nature, which is why I selected this form.

thanks to sfetfedyhghj

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The Mask Reveals the Heart

 

Bride’s coy veil,

vamp’s pillbox netting.

They conceal

to reveal—

no different from a mask

where disguise tells all.

 

Two years ago, the following flash fiction was published at The Ekphrastic Review. The veil in this case refers to the veil between living and dead or between this world and THAT world.

​Waiting for the Handsome Prince: A Farce (Of Course)
after “An Unexpected Visit” by Remedios Varo

Some girls left a glove or handkerchief, hoping to obligate a gentleman to return it. Eleonora liked to think she was different. She dropped a pump knowing he would imagine her barefoot and helpless. She remembered the velvet of his broad chest, jeweled medallion clanking, felt parts of her responding. Her new friend, Fairy Godfather, helped her prepare for Handsome Prince’s visit, adding to her pretty table setting an inexhaustible carafe and a trick candle, while assuring Eleonora they were traditional heirlooms with magical powers. Before he departed with an unnecessary hug, he reminded her what would happen if the spell were broken. All she needed to achieve the spell’s fulfillment was one kiss from Handsome Prince.Eleonora waited at the table for Handsome Prince all day. Then all night and the next day. She examined the events of the ball repeatedly. What went wrong? Was she too assertive? Too quiet? Did he prefer juicier curves or richer daddies? She tried to drink the water, but it was ensconced inside the glass, unattainable. She tried to rise, but the broken spell had already begun to claim its reward. The transformation into feline had begun. She was locked in place, the fur growing, even as the spinster cat had begun to dissolve into the woods. Just as the pitying fairies arrived to spirit her off beyond the veil, the now-unmasked Fairy Godfather appeared in his pumpkin, his goblin face taunting her.

NEW PUBS THIS WEEK

6 mixed media collages: Does It Have Pockets

2 speculative microfiction: Dog Throat Journal

revenge lit micro: Villain Era

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Filed under #AmWriting, #poetrycommunity, #TankaTuesday, Art and Music, Flash Fiction, Microfiction, Poetry, Syllabic Poetry, Writing

Kitty No-News News and Other Updates

I know I haven’t written about my kitties for a long time, so I thought I would update about them. We have four, all seniors.

Perry, my true love and favorite fur person (only rivaled by dearly departed Pear Blossom). I won’t say much as I don’t like to “jinx” anything. Gray and white, medium-long-haired.

Sloopy Anne, my best little girl who sleeps with the gardener and me. One of our other cats (Lily) hates Sloopy Anne with a passion, so we have a gate dividing our house in half. Sloops lives in the bedroom half. Tortico–tortoisehell from the top and calico from the bottom.

Lily, one of my son’s cats who I took in. She is so mean to Sloopy so Lily is confined to the front half of the house. The reason this is fair is because Lily is a dominant cat in great need of human touch and companionship. Sloopy is more reticent and happy in back. If the gardener sits down, Lily climbs on his chest up to his neck and sticks there like velcro. She can’t get through the gate because she’s fat. Orange and white long-haired who knows she’s beautiful.

Meesker, the other one of my son’s cats. He’s shy and was bullied by Lily for years, so for the last couple of years he’s lived in the back of the house with Sloopy Anne. However, just recently, he decided he likes it out front with Perry. Lily doesn’t dare bully Meesker out here because Perry keeps her in line. Perry is the benevolent king. Meesker is so skinny (GI issues) that he slides between the bars of the gate we put up so he can come and go as he pleases. (Actually so can Perry when he really really wants to do it). All black with black whiskers and toe beans.

The boys, Perry and Meesker:

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The wonderful journal Gone Lawn has published two of my micros: “Nature’s Ways” and “The New Girl.” The first one is fanciful. The second is kind of heart-breaking. It’s in honor of all the new girls who didn’t come into a school with the best clothes or nurturing.

https://gonelawn.net/journal/issue61/Castle.php

“Nature’s Ways” begins this way:

Ethel hoisted herself off the old, webbed chair with one hand and a sigh, grabbed her muddy gloves, and slipped on wet grass toward the garden at the back wall. Her dear Buttercup had passed in her arms the day before, and her enthusiasm for her garden, even life itself, had seemed to die with the little marmalade cat.

“The New Girl” begins this way:

The school secretary handed you off to Miss Dixon, as if you were a slippery, prickery, stinky fish, and you sat in that front row seat where nobody else wanted to sit and didn’t look around so everybody could stare at you until lunch, and I admit I was no different, noting your limp faded dress,

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Two of my micros were finalists in a contest by The Ekphrastic Review. 

You can find them at:

https://www.ekphrastic.net/the-ekphrastic-review/perfect-ten-marathon-flash-fiction-finalists-and-winner

If you go to that link you will find all the finalist stories as well as the winning story.

Here are the two inspiring art pieces that I wrote from with beginnings of the stories.

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Rogue Agent published two of my collages at https://www.rogueagentjournal.com/lcastle  along with a written description of each collage and some comments I make about them.

These collages were inspired by Sylvia Plath poems. The first, “Feverish,” is based on the poem “Fever 103.” https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/29479/fever-103

This is one of my favorite poems ever. I hope you give it a read! Plath wrote it after she had been plagued by with a high fever for quite some time.

The other collage, “What a Thrill,” was inspired by the Plath poem, “Cut.”

https://allpoetry.com/poem/8498445-Cut-by-Sylvia-Plath

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