Fucking Finally

Whenever I've thought of what I want to do, the only things I ever came up with were writing and teaching. I have been writing. But we all know that doesn't pay the bills. So I'm dipping my toe into the water of teaching. Just a tiny baby toe. I'm working one afternoon a week,... Continue Reading →

why i write

I am overwhelmed sometimes and feel a great deal of wonder at words, just simple words and how deeply we can touch each other with them, though I know that most of the time language is the most abused of all human abilities or traits. On the river a few weeks ago, we wrote about why... 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 →

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 →

with joy and pride

Writing is hard.Because it's lonely and draining.Because it takes a long time to get it right, or right enough.Because it is a discipline.Because we're not getting paid. That makes people think it isn't that valuable. Because we are doing this with merely hope that one day it will be something that other people value. So... Continue Reading →


One day, I am going to be a writer and I will look back at this 34th year of my life, the one where I was in grad school and waitressed at nights and took care of my boys by day and I also freelanced and kept a house and attempted to take care of... Continue Reading →


I guess what I'm most interested in is the way people change.That's what I like to read, what I like to write.I'm currently reading Karen Gettert Shoemaker's short story collection, Night Sounds. She talks about friendships, about how we enter into them knowing they will change us.I think not only about people, but about our... Continue Reading →

second novel

I haven't written in a few weeks. Ever since I finished my novel.I mean, I wrote a short story and a couple of poems.But I didn't write anything longer, bigger.I've had this idea for a second novel for a few months now and last night, when I was trying to fall asleep, I kept thinking... Continue Reading →

Cheryl Strayed

Once my sister recommended I watch the movie Wild, so I tried it. I mean, I started it. I'll be honest, I'm not a movie person. I'm not even really a TV person anymore. The only way I sit down in front of it is if I have a game to play or a book... Continue Reading →

my other baby

On Friday night I put the final period on my first novel. I have written a book. An entire book.Three years in the making (but four months of highly concentrated working). This semester, I submitted fifty pages of my novel for each of my four packets. If you remember, last semester I only wrote eighty... Continue Reading →

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