I’ve been listening to Ella Henderson’s “Ghost” on repeat. I keep going to the river to pray ‘Cause I need something that can wash all the pain And at most I’m sleeping all these demons away But your ghost, the ghost of you It keeps me awake Throughout the day for at least two weeks, I […]
I know the blog has been remarkably quiet lately. There are many reasons for this, including the children being off of preschool and school for about three weeks, the swirl of holiday engagements, and a pile-up of writing assignments (which is a good problem to have). Add to all of these a serious funk about
I keep a notebook for my ideas of what to write. Actually, I keep notebooks (plural), virtual (Evernote) and physical. Fragments of what I write rest in so many places. I cannot corral my words even when I try too. None of my notebooks are even close to full. Blank pages dominate my frenetic handwriting. Each notebook
This week, I have written something everyday: pitches, blog posts, drafts, and lists. I managed to finish an agonized column that I’ve been writing off and on for two months, and I should finish a review essay by early next week. I even sent off a pitch for a personal essay on tattoos, which is
Academic Writing Month: Bring it On! Read More
“I faced myself that day with the nonplussed apprehension of someone who has come across a vampire with no crucifix in hand,” Joan Didion, “On Self-Respect,” 1961. Recently, I had a low week (which turned into weeks), in which every bad decision, failing, and the general wrong turns weighed upon me. I was left unhappy, brittle, and
“Writers are always selling somebody out,” Joan Didion explains in the opening pages of Slouching Toward Bethlehem. These words clawed at me days after reading them in December. Now months later, the words still scratch at me when I begin to write. Didion’s words give me pause as I start new columns and projects. Do writers, implicitly or
On Writing and Selling Out Read More