I cannot thank you enough. When you pulled over to help me dig out my car from the snow at side of the road on Saturday, you were a godsend, and I am eternally grateful for your kindness.
I was in Minnesota for my cousin’s wedding and driving from the ceremony in White Bear to the reception in downtown St. Paul with my elderly, fragile mother in the passenger seat when the worst of the April 14th blizzard hit. The roads were practically obliterated under ever-deepening snow.… Continue reading
Spring is a season of setbacks and waiting, with snow still arriving in April and trees barely budding, no matter how often we look to them, expecting more. Yet, like with writing, the days add up, and inevitably we’ll have to reach true warm weather and the familiar explosion of green.
I have, happily, reached the point where I have a complete first draft of my latest novel, and I’m onto revising. Every time that I work, a little more progress adds up, progress that I can actually see by… Continue reading
I first began keeping a journal in seventh grade for an assignment in my Humanities class, and I’ve kept one pretty regularly ever since. These days, I have four journals that all serve different purposes.
- My nightly journal is a paper Sierra Club weekly calendar with fairly small spaces, just enough to write five lines of prose in small script. I use it to reflect back on the events of the day and any highlights. It gives me a sense of completion and personal significance, like my day mattered to… Continue reading
Let me share a little secret with you. I don’t always know what I’m doing. I lack reliable systems for writing a novel or growing as an artist or taking my work to the next level. A proper path, pattern or school doesn’t exist for writers like me. I’m stuck with training myself.
What I do is get up each morning and keep working, and sometimes, it really doesn’t get me anywhere. I recently abandoned a novel I’d been working on for half a year because I simply could not… Continue reading
I came upon a haiku I wrote while I was working on the Birthmarked trilogy, and it felt like a message to myself across time. It exactly captures the sense of my mind opening up with new space while I’m writing, and the doubleness I feel when my characters come alive.
Why I Write
Where Gaia calls one
side of me to the other
the wasteland opens
Every night lately, I wake from dreams. In one, I flew over a cliff of falling water as wide as half a planet. Once a lady with a red lantern floated up with a silver balloon into an evening sky of planes and missed her ride. Last night, I sank in a collapsing hole of sand before strangers pulled me free.
The dreams linger into my daylight and hover at the edge of my imagination as if expecting me to do something with them. I have no idea what that… Continue reading