This scissors holder is one of the last things my grandmother gave me.
Imagine being fully immersed in the experience—focused just on picking out flowers, for example, not trying to decide out what would make a great photo for your Instagram feed.
It’s not changing the past. It’s just keeping the focus on who I am now, instead of who I used to be, or how I got here.
I never expected that the title essay, “On Stories”, would explain in theory what had been demonstrated in practice in the novel I had just finished.
It’s kind of a cliché for writers to have had a long string of odd jobs. It’s sort of held up as a banner of wide experience, in support of that old maxim, “write what you know.”
I’ve been keeping online journals blogs since 2002. When I was primarily using LiveJournal (instead of just feeding posts from […]
“He knew very well that the grat majority of human conversation is meaningless. A man can get through most of […]