Nydia Amabelle Brandstatt: On S.G. Baker

By Nydia Amabelle Brandstatt

I’m not sure how long it took you to grow accustomed to my random moments of talking to myself or swearing at someone that was no longer on the phone. But eventually you did, and we learned to coexist. We learned each others’ body language and mannerisms. You knew not to talk to me if I didn’t say ‘good morning.’ I knew not to mess with you if your notebook was in front of you but you weren’t writing. I also learned to never bake anything with nuts or traces of nuts in it because of you. That is all.

Valerie Hendon: On S.G. Baker

By Valerie Hendon

Her short hair blew in the wind as she jumped onto the trolley, going somewhere she had never been before. Her mind ridden with writer’s block. The only things going through her brain these days was the fact that she wanted to write full-time, but until she could get her big break, she was forced to go to her 9-5 and slave away. Today she felt was different. She felt as if her big break was right around the corner, with the words racking up in that little head of hers. She just didn’t know how to get them down. Where was she going? The palace of her imagination, of course. Where her mind was free to wonder for the rest of her days!

Steven Watson: On S.G. Baker

By Steven Watson

She seemed to slip into her place somewhat chaotically; she could fit in any group unrepentantly, but at the same time her presence thrust upon her companions a desire to hang on her every word. From her tongue dripped the waters of Bethesda and any who could bathe in the banter were truly blessed.

This was merely a preliminary observation that most could see freely. To really look at her, to see her, was like watching the way that earth dances inside the seasons. Summer and Winter; Life and Death. Spring and Autumn; Growth and Decay. All of the elements stirred inside her eternally. Sometimes in conflict, other times in harmony. Most tied themselves to one season, one aspect, never searching out the others and thereby never getting the privilege of knowing the wonders of her soul. For this poor majority, she was happy to accommodate.

The brave souls who dared to venture deeper were greatly rewarded. At her center was a war, but not one of carnage and bloodshed. It was a battle between her adventurous nature and the world’s attempt to subdue it in the silent monotony that claims so many. Needless to say, the world didn’t stand a chance. As for those that ventured that deep, they were recruited and welcomed as friends in her onslaught against the dull realities that plague hearts and minds of men.

Susan Bedwell Amos: On S.G. Baker

By Susan Bedwell Amos

She is joy that flows out of every shy glance, knowing look and mischievous wink; she is warmth that touches everyone lucky enough to pass within her orbit, whether by the brush of gentle fingertips or the embrace of caring arms; she is love – true north, the genuine article, a vulnerable trust, a power to change the world. La Vera.

Jenette Baker: On S.G. Baker

By Jenette Baker

She stood by the water and smelled the ocean breeze. A storm was brewing and she welcomed the intense power that would electrify her spirit. I spoke with her for a time. I learned that it was the written word that she loved to communicate with the most. She was quick and witty with her words. She had been in many adventures in the books she had read and the road she had walked. There was a kindness in her, for she understood life. Her waters ran deep, like the ocean in front of her.

Sugar Friends: An Excerpt from Sara Fuller’s Autobiography

How the fuck do I still work here? I am a millennial, we don’t stay at one job for too long. Now I have been here for over 5 years. At least I have work friends, some of whom are also sugar friends. Today I brought in some Sour Patch Kids and need to let Summer know. I dial her extension and hear her answer as “Queen of Chaos.” 

By Sara Fuller

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ˈshu̇-gər ˈfrend noun. One attached to another by shared love of sweets. Usually sugar friends take turns supplying sweets.
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How the fuck do I still work here? I am a millennial, we don’t stay at one job for too long. Now I have been here for over 5 years. At least I have work friends, some of whom are also sugar friends. Today I brought in some Sour Patch Kids and need to let Summer know. I dial her extension and hear her answer as “Queen of Chaos.”

“I brought candy.”

“I’ll be right there.”

She comes over to my desk and asks where the Sour Patch Kids were made – we eat enough to know they taste different from different places. Somehow we can talk forever about anything, including how candy production facilities manufacture slightly different tasting products.

Although our lives growing up were nothing alike, and our present lives for that matter, we somehow have similar personalities and hobbies. We like sarcasm, dark humor, cursing, the colour black, each other’s glasses, reading, astronomy, and so much more. But we have our differences, too. She is more independent, self-assured, creative, and motivated than me. She is shorter than me, but I forget that because she is professional as fuck and wears heels to work. And she can speak up in situations where I sit quietly.

I try to learn from others, which sometimes is how to avoid parenting like the crazy people at the store, but other times it means taking notes from Summer on how to confidently argue and reading all of her book suggestions.

Robert Baker: On S.G. Baker

By Robert Baker

She stood on the pinnacle gazing at the masses in the valley below, the wind blowing her short hair gently across her un-furrowed brow. As she assessed the scene below, she moved her hand to the sword sheath that carried her sword, a mighty ball point pen. Her shield, the words she would pen, matched the chain mail and leather outfit of a worthy warrior. Turning swiftly, she moved purposefully as she approached her desk with fervor, as she continued her quest for life and truth.