Last week, I finished the first draft of a novel I’ve been writing, off and on (more off than on, obviously) for over ten years. I started compiling notes, ideas for characters, little snippets of quotes or scenes, then...
“The more I love humanity in general the less I love man in particular. In my dreams, I often make plans for the service of humanity, and perhaps I might actually face crucifixion if it were suddenly necessary. Yet I am incapable...
I've finished a very special book this week, by one of the loveliest people I've met on this writer's journey. I'm including my brief review below, which can't begin to describe her beautiful writing, and a link to...
I was adopted as an infant, brought home when I was nine weeks old on a day full of vivid images—my mom’s nervousness, the drive down to Los Angeles, their first impressions of me—not my own memories, of course, but the story...
"As soon as we express something, we devalue it strangely. We believe ourselves to have dived down into the depths of the abyss, and when we once again reach the surface, the drops of water on our pale fingertips no longer resemble the ocean from which they came...Nevertheless, the treasure shimmers in the darkness unchanged." ---Franz Kafka
