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I have set everything else aside, because November is for writing. I tend to wake too early, but today I slept more than seven hours after an early night, and was ready to write before six. I was so anxious to begin. Two thousand and some words each day will get me to my goal.…
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I am ready for October to end. It is my favorite month, most years. My birthday and the shift into wearing sweaters. All good. But this year, October has been too much. Good and bad. Writing, knitting, weaving. An ouch. Overlapping Zoom meetings, three times this month. Busy is great, but I’m getting out of…
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And also under TEACHING WRITING—I haven’t found the text that actually belongs under that heading. I’m hoping that post is… someplace.
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I misplaced my blog, not the blog or the posts (which are only hiding), but the BLOG. I think I have it back. The posts are all still… here. Like this one. I hope. Let me know. Gary is still unable to comment, which is Not A Good Thing. [UPDATE: Things seem to be where…
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At this point, what I did: I learned how to do things. I had experiences. Some sad. Some pure glory. …and future plans.
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Deer tracks, running the bridge, and olives in the enchiladas. We’ve been seeing deer tracks in the sand most mornings. Sometimes the prints just end as if the deer leapt forty feet east. A mystery, like the tracks in sand in Denzel Washington’s marvelous early film Mighty Quinn.
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A writer I know recently asked for opinions about sharing writing in public or with the public. It’s wonderful that writers share work. It’s extraordinarily helpful to have feedback and to use that to encourage further work in revision or something new. Pure glory to have our work well-received. My thoughts about sharing drafts begin…
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IMPERFECT PATIENCE 