Why are we drawn to what we’re drawn to? What clues to the creative process might be revealed from our obsessions? Can these obsessions yield art? Here are the opening passages from a failed essay on cats (yes, I know): In Milan Kundera’s novel Immortality, which I first read in 2004, there is a chapter […]
Cats, Or, I’m feeling irreverent today Read More »
It occurred to me this week, as I muscled through the final section of Draft 10 of my current long-form project, that a rest would soon be in order. I have a tendency to rush—in writing and in life—as many of you likely do, and also a tendency to burn out. Even with some life
Rest & Re-Vision: Surving Project Fatigue Read More »
Since finishing Jenny Odell’s fascinating book, HOW TO DO NOTHING: RESISTING THE ATTENTION ECONOMY, I’ve spotted a red-bellied woodpecker (twice) on our backyard birdfeeder, identified that curious grey-capped hopper foraging in the rose bushes as a catbird (thanks, SK!), watched a red-tailed hawk hunt (and shit!) in a church’s backyard while waiting to pick up
How many drafts of a story, or essay, or book, do you write before it feels “done”? Ten, twenty, fifty, one-hundred story drafts? More? I used to think it made the most sense, when writing, to write as much as possible, only to later go back and pull all the unnecessary stuff out. Revision seemed
A Good Story Is Like a Seven-Layer Cake Read More »
I’ve been a little hum-drum about writing lately—a fairly typical state, what I might call my version of writer’s block (I’m never not writing, so block doesn’t fit right)—finding that most days when I sit down, what comes out is… BLAH. Not that it’s bad (sometimes it is!), but that it lacks that je ne
Writing into the ‘Adjacent Possible’ Read More »
A special audio treat today! Click the bar below to listen to an excerpt from “Beholden” and a little peek into my morning routine… Click HERE for Cheralyn Darcey’s Flowers of the Night Oracle deck
Excerpt from “Beholden” + my pandemic lockdown coping mechanism Read More »
Dear Anne: I fell in love first with your confessions. You died years before I was born, and it would be years still before I grew into a suburban teenager who felt at a loss to describe the world around her. Never mind the world inside her. But there you were, beautiful, your “long brown
“No one’s alone.” | A “dead letter” to Anne Sexton Read More »
