Below you'll find a list of all posts that have been categorized as “Writing”
There are so many avenues to what one can easily call “failure” in this so-called writing life. A while back, I rearranged many aspects of my life so I could more easily prostrate myself on the altar of the written word, figuring that was a surefire way to get the work done…
A few years ago, a graduate school friend who now teaches in a low-residency writing program was working on a panel about “Late Bloomers” for the Associated Writing Program’s…
I have been cleaning the house for days. When I first started, there was a real need, the fact that we would be hosting our belated housewarming on Sunday afternoon. But once that was over—and the post-party cleanup had taken place as well—I found that I simply kept going…
The purpose of a fish trap is to catch fish. When the fish are caught, the trap is forgotten. The purpose of a rabbit snare is to catch rabbits. When the rabbits are caught, the snare is forgotten. The purpose of words is to convey ideas…
Lately, it seems like everyone I know is on edge. All the conversations I’ve had for the past month—whether back and forth in e-mail, on the phone, or chitchat over dinner—devolve into the same sentiment: We can’t wait until it’s midnight on November 4th. Election Day in the United States…
It is a gorgeous summer morning. I have the screen door open so the cats can mosey in and out. Of course, this allows the flies to visit as well. One particularly large and obnoxious one is flitting about the dining room as I type. This too shall pass….
It’s finally warm enough today to have the front door and windows open, the fresh air rushing blissfully in. The cats are outside lazing in sun and stalking arrogant, taunting squirrels. …
Today’s baby goal was to spend some time reflecting and synthesizing just what, really, is bugging me about the way I feel I’ve disengaged with my writing and the daily writing practice. Below is an updated artist’s prayer to…
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guide me through the next phase
I was surprised to hear and see that it was raining tonight. OK, it’s only March and this is the Pacific Northwest. But somehow all the blooming, the bulbs up and showy, the fruit trees, the camellias and almost the rhododendrons, had convinced me that winter was over which means sun instead of rain.
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Today I finally unpacked my fountain pen collection. I also hung a dream catcher that my old boss at Cornell gave me when I left my job there in 1998. Since then, it had been hanging in my writing room window, …
