Showing posts from February, 2012

"One Egg" is Not a Measurement

Yes, this has something to do with writing. In fact it's advice about writing advice, which feels very something-or-other. Postmodern . Meta. But it starts with cornbread. I've been making a lot of cornbread lately. The last two loaves of bread we bought became science experiments before we could eat them, so we haven't been buying it. Therefore, when my body says "feed me something plain, please," we don't have the "ingredients" for toast. But cornbread works. Plus it's relatively easy to make. Today is a howling-wind day, and I am suffering (and I do mean suffering) from a cold (though I imagine those around me are suffering more from my suffering), so today seemed like a good day to make cornbread. Except that because of said cold, we haven't been grocery shopping. So our stash of cornmeal is low. Instead of the 3/4 cup of cornmeal, I had only 1/2 cup. "Excellent," I said (not really). "I will simply 2/3 the entire recipe.&q


I'm back in this corner reading aloud, in preparation for reading in front of people tonight , and hoping not to wear out my voice in the process. Meanwhile, I offer up here an unanticipated gem. One benefit of my "suffer for 25 minutes" practice of weeding out files has been re-finding links I meant to check out more closely -- mostly, links to other writers. Today, a quote by David Milch on the blog of (YA and other) writer Laurie Halse (rhymes with waltz) Anderson caught my attention. I'll make you go here to read it in its entirely, but the gist is that writers who aren't writing feel bad (untalented, incompetent -- miserable). Separate, in fact, from the Divine. As in, don't postpone your writing until you feel the touch of the Divine. Writing is your way of reaching out to feel that touch. Yep, it all comes back to Nike: Just Do It.

Wanna Come Over and Read?

The kind folks at the Northern Woman's Bookstore have invited the fabulous poet Erin Stewart and me to read from our work. Please come -- and bring a short work of your own to share at the open mic time! We anticipate a fun, informal evening. There will be coffee! Possibly snacks! To recap: WHAT "Out of Hibernation," a reading of new writing WHERE Northern Woman's Bookstore , 65 South Court Street (across from Lot 66) (aaaaand I just figured out where that name came from, duh), Thunder Bay, Ontario. WHEN Wednesday, February 22, 2012, at 7:30 p.m. BRING Short writing of your own to share at the open mic Oh, and about the title of this post? I was a bookish kid (I can hear your shock from here) and my mother often "urged" me to go outside and/or find a human friend to play with. Apparently she thought that Laura and Mary Ingalls and the March sisters were somehow less real than the 10 or so girls my age who lived in my immediate neighborhood. She wanted me to

Loop, Thrown for a

Some days, things happen that derail normal life. And even in this world, when we as a culture tend to consider no life event "off limits," I just can't write about some things. Yes, I wrote about my mother's illness and death. However, I have not yet written about my father's death. Directly, that is, except informally. On the other hand, easily half of the short stories I'm revising feature protagonists with "dead people in the family." So perhaps it comes out one way or another. In any case, sometimes things happen that throw you for a loop. Today is a day when I'm a little loopy. (My brother is fine, by the way; this is not about him.) Ergo, for your contemplation: Is Ryan Gosling Cuter than a Puppy ? (My answer: not consistently. Possibly not ever. Puppies, they are dang cute.)

Whatever Are You Saving Them For?

I've written before that I have no hobbies other than reading and writing . Of course, that's not strictly true, and I have the boxes of craft supplies to show for it. Still. I do very little these days other than reading and writing. So drawing zentangles has turned out to be a lot of fun, and oddly illuminating. For example, many tangles are quite "dark" -- they're not so much patterns drawn in dark ink on white as white patterns left after you color in everything else. Even a basic checkerboard pattern is half colored and half not. I have found myself resisting drawing patterns with lots of "black space," not because I dislike coloring (I love it), but because using up all that ink?? It's WASTEFUL. And WASTING INK is WRONG. Because...why again? Yes, generally, wasting things is wrong. Reduce, reuse, recycle, et cetera. But USING is not WASTING. I'm using ink to draw things. What is wrong with that? And besides, ink? Really? What am I afraid of