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creative scrawlings by

Sara Eatherton-Goff

Hi! I'm Sara—mom of three, wife, and non-fiction and fiction writer currently scrawling on Medium, and about online business growth at GoffCreative.com. While you're here, don't forget to subscribe for direct, hand-crafted ruminations delicately bundled for you each week.

featured fiction

“No More Second Chances”—A Short Story

by Sara Eatherton-Goff

Her life was one that housewives watched on Facebook, longing for a moment in her shoes.

Her photos were exotic, envy-inducing. She still looked great in a bikini, fit and lightly sun-kissed. She seemed to have a new, younger, attractive man by her side in everything she displayed.

Ooh, Corinne! Who is that???

OMG! So gorgeous! Where are you?! He is HOT!

Wow! You look so happy!

But she woke up empty this morning.

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recent non-fiction

The Summer of Uninspiration

My problems didn’t disappear with a 2,700-mile move. They just drove the scenic route, catching up shortly after my flight landed.

My brain has died.

I’m flooded with thoughts and demands and people asking for time, and I’ve lost the ability to think.

I’ve fallen into a hole with rigid, unscalable walls where creativity collapses and originality wains.

This hole is called “Summer”.

The Summer of Uninspiration.

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12 Months of Writing

Just go with where the words take you the first time. If it comes out like butter, well, good for you! But margarine isn’t acceptable…

It started as an outlet and a way for me to stop being so judgmental of my own works.

I made a deal with myself when I started: Write the piece, edit it once and schedule it to publish the following week. Edit it ONCE, Lady, seriously.

And I did. Every piece I’ve written this year—specifically the ones that made it to Medium—have been read and tinkered with once by yours truly before I tossed it online.

The next deal I made with myself was to stop over-complicating the prose.

Sure, it’s beautiful when someone’s sentence seduces your soul with elegant verbiage, but if you had to slave over that sentence to get the point across, who are you really benefitting?

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An End, A Beginning

I don't judge her—the me before I started caring less about stuff and more about people.

This is my last week here, for good, I expect.

I’ll say my farewells this weekend.

Lots of tears will be shed, lots of hearts will be aching. Mainly mine, although I’ll try my best to act like it won’t.

(Picking up the pieces is much more difficult than super-gluing your fissures to prepare for the inevitable shatter.)

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popular pieces

"It's All Immaterial"—A Short Story

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A short snippet from my novel “Better”.

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Words on a Whisper

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Everything Is Normal

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You don’t need those organs anyways…right?

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That’s A Twenty Well Spent

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published online

*Popular (and recommended)

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