Tag Archives: writing life
The Shame I Feel
I’m stupid. I’m inadequate. I am a failure. This is what I grew up believing about myself, and there was no place that proved these points more often, more relentlessly, and more consistently than school. All day long, five days … Continue reading
Making Art in the Age of Trump
Writing takes spaciousness. It requires managing time and psychic space. It requires holding part of yourself away from things: reality, jobs, bills, money, even marriage and partnership and family. It requires keeping a large part of your heart and mind … Continue reading
Walls, Doors and Windows
I am thinking about walls, doors and windows, and the rooms that many writers feel they are kept out of. The feeling is real. I have a lot of experience with walls, doors and windows. Besides the fact that I … Continue reading
The Conversation
This is a conversation I have had quite often: “How do I get to do what you do?” I am asked. “What exactly do you mean?” How do I get a book published? How do I get paid to teach … Continue reading
Chasing Poetry
Every day the poems slip away, as indifferent as cats. They slink behind trees and clouds. The burble beneath the swamp. I glimpse them floating downstream as I am walking up. But they are not just in the woods. They … Continue reading
Wounded
It is hard not to lead with our wounds. We all have them. Some are personal. Some are from childhood. Many are cultural. Every day we step out into the world and the wounds are bumped and beaten and reinforced. … Continue reading
Timidity and Standing Fierce
As a child I was timid. I learned early on that my opinions did not matter. If they were heard at all, they were argued with or denied. I did not excel in school. I kept to myself mostly. I … Continue reading
On Writing and Balance
This is from a talk I gave at the Franklin County Arts Council Writers’ Guild Spring Retreat on balancing a creative life with a work life. The problem is never time. It’s urgency. How much urgency do you feel? How … Continue reading
The Woo At Work
Writing a novel is messy. It’s a willful entrance into the unknown. It’s uncomfortable and weird and it feels wrong a lot of the time, especially in the beginning. And then one day you notice a gathering of clouds just … Continue reading