I call it “spiritual dyslexia.”
When I was teaching myself to write, if an offering really, really did not appeal to me, I reluctantly signed up. That’s how I discovered literary journalism—literary journalism? I gasped when I read the syllabus Randall Kenan was teaching that year. It sounded terrible, but Randall was teaching it...
He had one plant, small.
I had three hanging baskets and two big ferns, fat.
He’d been there when I arrived, he and his wife wandering among the plants. It was mid-day Wednesday, no one else at the nursery. A young, spring day. The swarms of eager Memphians hadn’t yet descended on the unsuspecting begonias and geraniums. No one in...
Why do the grapes need protecting?
I’m talking about it on the website. Yes, I mean literally talking.
Go to the Home Page and listen to the front porch moment. Then listen to “Drunk at the Foodland Again” at STORIES.
You’ll learn the answer as told to you in my voice. My Very Southern Voice. ?
My writing coach and wonderful friend Connie Burnett Cruthirds has started a blog! If her initial post is any indication, you’ll want to join me in following along.
Peace by Piece: “How Can I be 54 and Still Fat?”
I went to junior high and high school in Charlotte, North Carolina. Charlotte was the home I returned to in college and law school. When my daddy died, I sang over his grave: “I’m a Tar Heel born, I’m a Tar Heel bred, and when I die, I’m a Tar Heel dead.”
The North Carolina legislature recently passed a new law authorizing...
I arrived at a certain point in the writing of Jazzy and the Pirate that felt like a period. An ending about to soar to a new beginning. Exciting, but also a bit daunting. I needed a break. How does a writer take a break? Revise a different novel, of course.
Don’t worry. I’m not abandoning Jazzy. I’m simply letting my mind focus...
The boss man wasn’t there today. That’s what the worker told me, standing in the great room of our half-finished house. He was sanding. I was inspecting. He thought the homeowners might want to talk to the boss. I wanted to talk to him, the man guiding the sanding machine, the one who would rub the stain on the floor. The man who...
I very much appreciate EAP:The Magazine publishing my essay “Grief: What’s the Best I Can Do?”
I really like this magazine. Full of good writers, talking about interesting, important stuff. Mosey around and peruse some of the content when you click through to read my essay. 🙂
Grief: What’s the Best I Can Do?