Dear "Lord," Thank you for this hot mess of a world, because it seems to be the only one available. Thank you also for hot yoga. Merci beaucoup for the little things: the hot astringent tea, the morning silence at the kitchen table. For the ability to think and feel and to perceive the wonders... Continue Reading →
Gardening Into the Apocalypse
Readers often ask fiction writers the tiresome question: “Which part of your story is true?” The correct answer is: “The whole thing.” After all, if a story doesn't express a Greater Truth, why bother telling it? That said, I understand the urge to parse a story for “facts.” Coming from a journalism background, I’m sensitive... Continue Reading →