The beauty of an ordinary life.

Perhaps the real purpose of keeping a journal is for the assurance, at some later date, that one is still oneself - voice, hand, and eye as distinct as fingerprints. The years spanned are a blur, but each minute is frozen in crystalline precision. Only in time do the entries divulge what they always were: … Continue reading The beauty of an ordinary life.

To me, on my third… birthday?

Although the notion might meet with disagreement from my friend who birthed a real live human this week (Mazel and welcome, little peach!), producing a piece of writing is, for me (and a few thousand others), a little like having a baby. Or at least like laying eggs. It always starts with a fertile idea. … Continue reading To me, on my third… birthday?

Southern storyteller syndrome

Here's what I know about writing fiction: it's harder than you might think. Last summer when I hit a dry spell working on the memoir/essay/cookbook project I started, I decided maybe I'd take the hint offered by a writer friend and try my hand at fiction. What she'd actually said over lunch, journalist speaking to … Continue reading Southern storyteller syndrome