I’m going to let you in on one of the things I really love about writing. It’s almost impossible to… Read more Failing Up.
The following is an excerpt from a novel-in-progress. Any feedback you might have is welcome. Barnaby woke suddenly, gasping and… Read more The Hanging of Adlai Grainger.
I was handed a gift yesterday. It’s a sheet of heavy paper like the kind you would find used as… Read more The Gift.
My mother was a knitter. I remember her spending hours sitting in a recliner, knitting. I remember I watched, trying… Read more Knitting a Sweater.
I was listening to a podcast by one of my favorite comedians in which he said that as a young… Read more The Working Artist.
I had a very talented writer friend who complimented me recently on my ability to describe people. I don’t know… Read more Looking At People.
Roger shielded his eyes from the sun as he looked up into the trees. At this point, the structure appeared… Read more The Tree House.
It’s done. The art is hung, for better or worse, and it’s not a thing I have to worry about… Read more Human Again.
This is a part of a series detailing our itinerary for the upcoming trip through the California desert. For details,… Read more Day Four: Slab City and East Jesus.
This is one in a series of entries recounting the 2009 trip that Phil Rose and I took to the… Read more Remembering the Desert, Part 4