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Category Archives: writing
wall-gazing
Things come. Not as expected, or even as the shadow of expectation sometimes, but they arrive. Sailing in: the phrase I thought couldn’t be grasped, the way to shape a structure, the whereabouts of that envelope surely lost. They show … Continue reading
Posted in life, writing
3 Comments
random notes on creative nonfiction
I want to uncover from real to real, though I can barely get beyond imagined. The role my supposings play, though, makes it fun: a biography of air, of ants, or aunts, a piece of driftwood once a tree. A … Continue reading
hearty story
My blog’s date is in the military (and faraway places) style, with the day preceding the month. I’ve tried to make it regular American, to no avail. But as Tim says, I should prefer it; it’s logical that way. Tim … Continue reading
Posted in marriage is cute sometimes, memoir, newsy, writing
Tagged confusion, early marriage
4 Comments
friday thought
It’s not so much sitting down, composed, saying, “What shall I write today?” as it is racing, capturing ideas that surge, foaming, onto shore, before they pull away.
happy portion
For a few years I tried to write prettier – to add flourishes that would astound. I guess I didn’t think I would run into that purple prose problem, because I had tended at first to write so sparsely. Surely, … Continue reading
posty note
This week, you may have noticed, I posted five times. Last weekend I decided to try writing things ahead and then utilizing the blog’s “schedule post” feature so they would magically appear, as if predestined. This has been a trial … Continue reading
Posted in blogging, practice, work, writing
Tagged ideas, Lisa Ohlen Harris, writing and rewriting
3 Comments
a tuesday thought
Writing is waiting and problem solving and waiting and starting over and giving up and changing your mind and reading sentences until they drip from your ears and redoing them again.
writer’s royal tool
An old friend came down from our attic. It tugged my memories. The gray, dignified look, the smell of ink ribbon, the sound made by a key’s strike. At once I was back in my bedroom during the summer after … Continue reading
cold commitment; warm smiles
At the fairgrounds on Saturday I found them. Twenty or so writers sat shivering behind their books, smiling and greeting each person browsing the author fair so warmly you could hardly tell. But they were dwelling beneath air conditioning fans … Continue reading