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merrymuhsman

About Me

Merry Muhsman lives on a farm in rural Nebraska with her husband, son, a dog and many cats. At a young age, she began writing on Sunday afternoons, beneath a tree on her parent’s farm. The tree is gone, but her love for writing has never faded. Merry loves fantasy, but when the muse allows, she also enjoys writing women’s fiction, nonfiction and flash fiction.

Her stories have appeared in “On the Premise” magazine and “Voices from the Plains” a Nebraska Writer’s Guild Anthology. She has also been accepted twice into the prestigious Odyssey Writing Workshop.

Hello,

I’m Merry

Born and raised in Nebraska, Merry Muhsman is a fantasy writer, a nonfiction writer, and a flash fiction writer. Merry lives on a farm with her husband and son, a dog and lots of cats.

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Recent posts

  • The One Tree

    This story was first published in On the Premise, March 2013. I hope you enjoy it! Today I’m sharing something a little different than you’ve read before. This story is a fantasy story, based in the world I created in my first self-published book. I was fascinated with a story I read tha the first

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  • Not everyone can play football

    “I’ve never had a team with this record.” I sat across from our school’s Varsity football coach at a student conference meeting, staring dumbstruck at Coach as he tossed those unexpected words onto the table between us. Coach did double duty as Austin’s Strength and Conditioning teacher (the modern-day version of what we used to

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  • Band-Aids and Uncle Bill

    Band-Aids and Uncle Bill

    Photo by Possessed Photography on Unsplash A curly blonde girl cradled a metal Band-aid box to her chest, and two tears slid down her cheeks. She peered into the heavy darkness of the small opening of the cave. A good place for a burial. The box was prepared with care, layered with a flower-patterned paper

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  • Honorable Mention

    Honorable mention. Two words that could mean second place or not good enough for honor roll or even first place. It all depends on your perspective. My mother had fistfuls of purple ribbons from the 4-H fair and several first-place finishes at the state fair. My mother was a top-notch competitor and winner.  My sister

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  • Mom and Bugs

    A curly blonde head leaned over the vegetable-patterned fabric, feeding it carefully under the sewing machine foot. The hum of the machine wanting to be let loose, but the girl was too hesitant, having ripped out seam after seam. I gazed up at my mother for approval on the stitch. I knew it was crooked,

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  • Don’t Let Go

    Sparkles of light like diamonds skim across the still blue water. The sun is impossibly bright and the air unbelievably still. I don’t want to do this. I adjust the red life jacket crowding my face. I want to throw up. I am a pro when it comes to faking sickness to get out of

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