In the pages of the current issue of High Desert Journal is an essay of mine. It’s one that is close to my heart; I am thrilled to see it in print. The Journal is a literary and visual art magazine that once seemed beyond me. To be published by them is to stand alongside…
I needed to dive into my book again. I thought that was because I believed the project had potential. Now I think maybe it was because I needed to be reminded of why I set fire to it in the first place. Other things my consultant said: Memoir is currently dead weight in the…
“When you set fire to something, man, you’ve got to respect that.” The anniversary of my book burning was Monday. I forgot all about it until yesterday. This is very ironic because part of the reason it never crossed my mind is that I was totally focused on the consult to work on the book’s…
The pressures of parenthood seem to congeal around a holiday like grease on a ham. We *should* put the chickens in their matching dresses. We *should* achieve a lovely family picture. We *should*dote on the kids (at least not park them in front of a video). We *shouldn’t* let them eat too much sugar. The…
Chicken Little keeps catching me putting her drawings in the recycling bin. She never once considers that I’ve done it on purpose. She always assumes it’s been a mistake. “Mommy, you accidentally put this in there,” she says, holding it out to me. “Whoops!” I say, and stick it back on the refrigerator. This is…
I have been reading Malcolm Gladwell again: his first book, The Tipping Point. It’s an examination of the factors that kick off epidemics of disease, thought, trend, etc. I am just not getting into it like I did Blink and Outliers. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with the book. The copy is full of great…
One of the reasons I burnt up my book was that it was taking me away from my chickens. It takes incredible focus to keep 225 pages in my head. One side effect is that everything else starts to feel like a frustrating distraction: Captain Daddy, my paid writing assignments, the laundry, my taxes and…
After nine years with the same yoga instructor, I recently jumped ship. Not because of dissatisfaction—I love my longtime teacher—but because of reanalyzed cost-benefit ratio (popular in this economy, yes?). Her class is offered once a week for $12/session and I found a place where I could go any of seven days a week for…
One of my Anonymous Commenters likes to reply to my posts with poems (See “Guts”). I am not much of a poetry person, but I like her approach. Often her chosen poets speak better than I to whatever theme I aimed for. Every now and then something really hits home. This one by Lucille Clifton,…
Strange things happen once I start to edit my manuscript. 1. Excuses slip away. Not enough time? I steal time. From chores, from writing assignments, from my chickens. Even from cocktail hour. Not enough motivation? There’s too much. I can’t focus on anything else. I work on my book all of the time. When I…