Eva Ulian

Dec 9, 2024 | litopia.com | Rachel McCarron |James Charles |Pamela Jo |Eva Ulian

I don’t want to bring you down, but Christmas isn’t always fun for me. It’s a difficult time for a lot of people. The pressure is on to have a good time, but it’s not easy. The ideal of family around the table in a beautifully decorated, warm home, surrounded by love and gifts is a fantasy I gave up on long ago. Domestic abuse spikes over Christmas as does alcohol-related violence and misadventure. The lonely are made to feel lonelier.

Dec 7, 2024 | litopia.com | Claire Gallagher |James Charles |Pamela Jo |Eva Ulian

When I was eight years old, I auditioned for a part in my school’s Christmas play, Christmas is Cancelled! Despite being a shy child, I loved singing and role-playing and my timidity was overridden by the thought of getting to experience my dream of performing on stage. The audition took place in the school hall at lunchtime. The part I wanted was that of the Ice Queen, the main villain.

Dec 5, 2024 | litopia.com | James Charles |Pamela Jo |Eva Ulian |Laura Rikono

Over the river and through the woodsTo Grandmother’s house we go. The horse knows the way to carry the sleighThrough the wide and drifted snow. I am retired and live in Hawaii after teaching and administering for the school district in Los Angeles for many years, but I grew up in Western New York near Niagara Falls. I remember the vivid snowy days, where we had lots and lots of snow from about November through the end of February and into March.

Oct 14, 2024 | litopia.com | Rachel McCarron |James Charles |Eva Ulian |Agent Pete

Giving FeedbackThe title of this post is a sentence that’s often used at the end of a fellow writer’s feedback in the Lab, and I think it’s perfect. The first time I submitted work for critique and someone responded with this line, I felt a huge wave of relief.

Oct 14, 2024 | litopia.com | Rachel McCarron |James Charles |Eva Ulian |Agent Pete

We gazed from Cardiff’s seafront as the diamond radiance of a million stars glittered in autumn’s midnight. . I spoke of my soul’s breech by the songs of Bassey, Jenkins and the Jones’ boy, . of my tears’ cascade at the majesty of Snowdon, the Mumbles and the hills of Abergavenny. .