Recently, spurred by Harvey Weinstein, women have been posting #metoo online to show how widespread sexual assault and harassment is.I have not been assaulted, but I know so many women who have been.I have been harassed, I guess you'd call it, but only with words.Once, by my boss when I closed down the bar. I... Continue Reading →
Q317 songs
Dark Side - Bishop Briggs Habits of my Heart - Jaymes Young Summertime Sadness - Lana Del Ray White Lightning - The Cadillac Three False Alarm - The Head and the Heart Like I'm Gonna Lose You - Jasmine Thompson No Diggity - Chet Faker Bloodstream - Stateless Sparks - Coldplay The Night we Met... Continue Reading →
writing on the river
This weekend I spent on the Missouri River, at a writer's retreat. A writer's retreat is a place full of artists, other tribe members. These retreats exist so we can be learn from each other, inspire one another, read, write, and watch the birds fly south overhead. On the first night, we each wrote on... Continue Reading →
for brandon
Last night, Brandon, you couldn't sleep because you watched a video on the iPad that frightened you. You called, "mommy!" from your bed, even though you never call me that anymore and I raced up the bunk stairs to hold you. You were covered in a cold sweat. You told me about the video, that... Continue Reading →
favorite short stories
I often write posts about books I've read and loved but I've never made a collection of short stories I love, which are equally important, but don't get the attention novels and memoirs do, for some reason I can't explain. I don't know why everyone isn't reading short story collections. Short stories are condensed versions... Continue Reading →
resembling myself
I read the phrase, A woman who has only recently come to resemble herself ("The Folded Clock: A Diary" by Heidi Julavits). I underlined it. I read it again: "A woman who has only recently come to resemble herself." There was a break on the page then, which I used to mull over this sentence,... Continue Reading →
somewhere discoverable
Once I was a writer in the sense that I wrote sometimes.Now, I am a writer in the sense that I depend on it. Like exercise, or sleep: it is a part of my day. My head fills with words and sentences to write and each day, I empty my head: scribble it down or... Continue Reading →
Milwaukee
Writing was lonely.So very lonely.Until the day I discovered other writers.I knew they existed, of course, on couches being interviewed, represented with jacket pictures, in print. But not in real life like this. When I joined this MFA Program last summer, my world exploded. Suddenly I was filled to the brim with the camaraderie I... Continue Reading →
like a child
When my arm is across Brandon's or Holden's chest, I feel their hearts racing, running. I think, slow down, calm down, breathe. You're running your little selves ragged, you're so high strung, you chatter too much. I think all of these things while I drink my coffee, trying to stimulate myself.I tell them not to interrupt... Continue Reading →
time, money, and bath bombs
I need a break from this paper which is making my head spin.So here's what I'm into lately: Bath bombs. I don't know if I can take a bath without one. It turns a bath into an experience. They're expensive, yes, but you can get six cheap tiny ones for ten bucks in a pinch. I am... Continue Reading →
holly pelesky 