Give a Cat a Puzzle*

Give a cat a puzzle
and into the box she'll climb,
lie down on all the pieces,
settle in for napping time.

It's better that she's sleeping,
'cause if she's wide awake,
she'll sneak up on that puzzle
and the piece you need, she'll take.



She'll bat it with her tufted paws
send it flying through the air,
so when you need it    later on,
you'll find it won't be there.

And should you still ignore her,
to get your attention back,
she'll wiggle her hind-haunches
and prepare for an attack.







What happens next, you can't control --
a losing battle that.
A feline makes her own rules --
just ask any cat.









The purpose of a puzzle
may be lost upon your friend;
it matters not to her
how it winds up in the end.



So if snapping that last piece in
is the reward for which you thirst,
toss Kitty-Cat a mouse-y
or you'll have to find it first.

*Title and first line inspired by Laura Numeroff's much loved picture book If You Give a Mouse a Cookie

Are You Out There?

The other night, as Alicia Keys led Stephen Colbert through a brief meditation exercise on The Late Show, she told him to focus on something he wished for. "I want my studio audience back," he said and laughed. But you could tell he meant it.

How strange it must be to record the show in his own home, after years of doing shows with a live audience. I notice it too as I watch with my husband -- the empty silence after each punchline where the laughter should be. Quarantined in our living room, it's up to us to laugh. Or not.

Colbert's longing for an audience response? I totally get it. It's a familiar feeling for an aspiring writer. For any writer, really. We throw words onto a blank page, post them on a blog or publish them as articles or books, and HOPE they find a reader. Hope someone reads our words and feels better for having read them, or at least feels something. Anything.

When I decided to start blogging again, I told myself it was just for me. An outlet for the thoughts that parade through my head in every waking moment, occupying my writer's brain. Those thoughts that, if left unexpressed, set up camp and clog my creative channels. I told myself it didn't matter if anybody read or commented.

I lied. It does matter.

We all want -- need -- that connection to our readers. Even those of us who prefer to create in the quiet of a writing room or artist's studio. We want our art to resonate with someone. Anyone.

See me, writers and artists say in the subtext of every creation. This may not be my story, but it does reflect, on some deeper level, a part of who I am. Something I have felt, something you may have felt too. A piece of my soul reaching out to yours.

We count pageviews and look for comments. And we feel sad -- empty -- when our words seem to fall into a void. When our voice goes unheard. Unnoticed.

Still, writing is an act of faith. So we continue. We put words on the page and send them out into the world in search of an audience. In search of even one reader who will pause and read. In search of you.