Here are my books, full of words I wrote; these are my stacks of author copies. This week I have been inscribing and mailing books to the nice people who support my art, even if my particular aesthetic isn't theirs. I have been figuring out how to promote myself. I have emailed local bookstores and... Continue Reading →
The thing about writing is it isn't just sitting here when I feel creative and transforming my thoughts into words in a Word doc. If only it was just that. Also, there is this matter of publishing. Tom Williams said, "So long as our words remain private to us, they are incomplete and inert. Power... Continue Reading →
I wish there was a machine that could accurately measure sadness, and display it in numbers that you could record. And it would be great if that machine could fit in the palm of your hand. I think of this every time I measure the air in my tires. ~"Men Without Women" by Haruki Murakami... Continue Reading →
I'm going to write my own "Summertime Sadness" song and it's about a parent who longs for the school year back, for a few hours to herself again. It isn't natural to parent alone. It is a two-person job, maybe three, maybe eight. I don't parent alone, actually, because Steve parents them half of the... Continue Reading →
At night, under the circle of light from a cheap metal lamp clamped to the kitchen table, she sits with paper and a pen and pretends she's not afraid. She's trying to live like a writer. ~From the introduction to "The House on Mango Street" by Sandra Cisneros I hate this part of life, but... Continue Reading →
The thing about writing is that it isn't constant. I say that to mean both it is and it isn't. Constantly, we are in the process of writing. Writers are observing the world around us in great detail, documenting it in notebooks or on receipts or napkins or in blogs or on Twitter. We are... Continue Reading →
Last week, Jen and I were in the panhandle of Nebraska, which is the Northwestern corner, almost Wyoming or South Dakota. She was there on an instructorship, me on a scholarship, and I tell you, it felt like being celebrities. Although I suppose everywhere we go together, her and me, it feels like that. We... Continue Reading →
It is the week of Mother's Day and you know what that means:liquor store runs piecing together puzzles at my dining room table to keep my hands busymaking plans with people, even though I'm an introvert and the noise of crowds and the pressure of conversation aggravates me because I'm afraid to be alone, afraid to curl... Continue Reading →
I have these short stories, you see, and I can't get them out of my head. I'll be in the car or the kitchen or the shower and a little tweak pops into my head. It could be a better character name or a new title or scraping a scene or adding a new one.... Continue Reading →
I am watching it snow, thinking of Florida.Where tomorrow, I become a part of the greater writing community. Greater than this intimate writing group I host. Greater than this local MFA program I am a part of. I am going to AWP, which is an annual conference where writers and editors and publishers convene and... Continue Reading →
holly pelesky 