A little about me

Clearly Autumn Circles is a pseudonym. My real name is Kathleen and I live in the North Texas region. But Autumn Circles does describe me at my core. It is also from a haiku written about me, by me.

Why the need on only my second post to tell you who I am? Two-fold: to hold myself accountable for the work I disseminate into the universe and not totally hide behind a pseudonym to freely write what I want.

I love to write. I am constantly writing. Sometimes it is pen to paper or words filling the air in an intimate dialog. But the most common way is with a keyboard into the very sterile digital world of my personal computer. And there it stays. On rare occasions have I shaken off the sheep’s garment to let my wolf roam wild and free.

My aspirations of publication have peaked and waned over the years, and finally, finally I got tired of waiting for the right time to devote to getting traditionally published. Hence, my entrance into the world of blogs.

I know there are millions of us out there typing our way into someone else’s internet connection and I am simply glad to be among the crowd.

Wolves are an endangered species and quite often misunderstood.

This is my way of expanding the pack and dispelling the myths I hold over myself.

If someone else reads it and relates – yeah! If no one else ever stumbles across it, at least I know I howled at the moon while I still had a voice.


Welcome another voice.

As I sit here in my makeshift writing room that used to be our kitchen dining area contemplating what my first post should be, I am also looking out the window at our two children playing in the backyard. They have big sticks and are clearly off in some made up world of their own. Climbing and traversing far away lands in their minds on broken down swing equipment and overgrown grass – they have no concept of the evils of time nor should they.

I, on the other hand, am a slave to the tyrant master Time. Even now, I feel as though I am stealing time away from our children. Or my husband. Or the laundry. It’s a calm Sunday evening and my brainwashed psyche is desperately trying to convince me that I don’t deserve time to write what is in my heart much less a blog of my own. The light that is my own has been trying to break through for years only to be extinguished in a shame filled rush of unworthiness.

Today I challenge Time in an unusual way – by letting it go.

For now.