Quiet Memory

Here I am for the first time in nearly 20 years at this place that I loved as a kid. I spent so much time here writing, reading, and otherwise being someplace quiet and surrounded by books. I had glamorous ideas of my future writer's life and for whatever reason, I imagined hours spent in libraries - when I wasn't in the custom-made writer's den/cabin I'd of course have somewhere, with a giant weeping willow outside and nearby brook. I'm a little surprised to remember now that I had that image of writing in libraries, since in my adult writing life I don't think it's even occurred to me to go to a library to write.

Advertisements

Not really a…

Lately I've been very interested in personal narrative.  The ongoing and constant story we tell ourselves about who we are or aren't.  What we would or would not do, what we like or don't like, how we feel, and what we can or can't do.  Specifically, I'm fascinated by how this narrative gets in the … Continue reading Not really a…