An old friend new

I love Annie Dillard. Non-Fiction, anyway. I can't speak to her fiction. But her NF is brilliant.It's interesting to me how I can forget things so easily. I was in the middle of An American Childhood when it had to go back to the library many months ago, and I never did get it back. Plum... Continue Reading →

Understanding me

It was one of those few and far-between epiphanies. The forehead-to-palm moments. In Quiet, Susan Cain was pontificating on the need for solitude in concentration and creation. The basic need for peace and quiet when embarking upon any creative  - or deep thinking - process. She wasn't writing about writing, per se, but she did quote a... Continue Reading →

Grist

It has been said that tough things, painful things, are grist for the writing mill. Recently, friend of mine threw that one out there second-hand—the roll of her eyes and snort of derision reaching through the email screen. She offered it up to a mutual writing buddy, in case they might draw any more comfort... Continue Reading →

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