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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
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Spiders: the final enemy in my mailbox. These are the stories of a Nebraska farmwife terrified of spiders. Her mission is to avoid getting the mail until the second frost. Her mission is to avoid spiders at all cost, seek out new ways to avoid them and to boldly never open the mailbox until winter.
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I’m going on sabbatical. Time frame is to be determined, but I’m done getting the mail from the mailbox. You see, there’s not just mail in my mailbox. There’s black creatures lurking in the mailbox, building their sticky sacks where their thousands of children live. And the worst part of these creatures? They jump. I
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Closed doors, open doors and waiting for that one “yes” I didn’t win, and that’s a good thing About a month ago, I learned I was honorable mention in a writing contest. When I got the news, I did the happy dance, jumped up and down like I was on a pogo stick and told
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There’s a movement that is becoming a bit troubling to me, and I’m not talking politics, AI or the future. I’ll let other bloggers talk about that. I’m talking about gratitude. Writing thank you notes is becoming a lost art, even just writing a note in general is rare. And nowhere is the absence of
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Fear cripples every living thing, but God shows us how to overcome. The north wind blew strong, bitter; the very chill that comes with the bite of snow. Winter was still showing her teeth no matter that it was officially five days into spring. The cats snuggled in their warm buildings with their bellies full.
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Finding reflection on Sunday with random musings… Sundays are a time for rest and reflection. They are also a time I choose to write. I could work on my novel. I could work on a short story or flash fiction story that has been nudging at me, but instead, I have a few random thoughts.
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The internet is ruining one of my favorite authors. This is not the first time. I was sitting in the physical therapist’s office, randomly scrolling through Twitter and came across a tell-all piece regarding Marion Zimmer Bradly. When I was a teenager, my aunt gifted me with “Mists of Avalon.” I remember my mom not
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She is 8, maybe 9. Her hair is blonde and curls up at her shoulders. She pushes her bangs out of her eyes, leaning forward to listen to the choir. She did not have a Christmas dress with sparkles or lace or black patent leather shoes. Her hair was not curled into long ringlets. She
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