The Writer's Life as Creative Survival
I’m working on my wonder. It needs a bit of a tune-up. My wonder has gone wonky, as it were. The bad things, the overwhelming and seemingly hopeless, tend to take wonder and throw it in the dryer on hot until it shrinks up and forever thereafter fails to cover the proverbial muffin top of … Continue reading On wonder
A therapist once told me that I have an over-inflated sense of justice. It lingers as one of the more jarring lessons in stripped-down candor that have slapped me into self-reflection. I was aghast and filled with that particular sort of indignation that runs on embarrassment and shame. It felt wrong, but I was young, … Continue reading How do you solve a problem like an over-inflated sense of justice?
I used to watch my writing languish. Literally. Like some lazy do-no-good or a comatose soap opera actor waiting for a brain transplant. My ex, would offer to read something I’d poured myself into, hours of pen and paper, computer screen, and back to pen and paper, the cycle of writing and revising spinning until … Continue reading Write to live (or, how not to die)
I walked to the pond every day as my life ripped asunder beneath the sharp edges of the summer sun. I didn’t think I could lose any more, but that’s the pitfall of thinking. We fail to realize that much of it is dreaming or hoping or both and that only hindsight reveals the truth. … Continue reading A place to put it all
The good story refuses denial . . .
When I was voted most likely to become an author (at age 10), I had a pretty clear picture in my mind of what that fabulous becoming would look like. Or, at least I could clearly picture myself on the back cover of a book, my book, I could see it in the library, a … Continue reading You should write a book about that