Reflections on Writing, Traveling, and Food
One of my first assignments this term for my MFA lyric essay class is to keep a weekly journal. Despite my love of writing and despite the purchase of all the cute journaling accoutrements—colored pens, journal with writerly mantra on the cover, and irresistible Etsy stickers—I have not, as yet, been able to discipline myself
Steve is all I remember of his name although I doubt we were permitted to refer to him in such an informal manner. He was slim, wore heavy, horn-rimmed glasses, and had funny, fuzzy hair of which, no one ever considered making fun of. He was a powerhouse of knowledge and energy, and the entire
I took to heart all the advice of favorite authors and journalists and ditched the “New Year’s resolutions”, at least the terminology anyway. Instead, I chose goals and life changes for the upcoming year. Many of my life changes are, I’m sure, like so many of yours—be grateful, slow down and smell the roses, try
In the farthest corner of my house, in a room very occasionally used as a guestroom, there is a box that rests high on a shelf in the closet. In the box, thanks to my mother, is everything I have ever written from the time I could hold a crayon through my senior year in
I was twelve years old when I first read The Magnificent Barb written by Dana Faralla. As so often happens with great characters and young readers, the Barb and the Fitzgerald’s instantly became my friends, and my desire to be part of their world was closely connected to my girlhood longing for my own horse
Recently, I wrote an article about some of the students I work with. I tutor writing and English at the local state college, and since I love the work, I was inspired to reflect my feelings on paper. When it was published, I proudly emailed it to my supervisors. Both of them took time out
I am a lousy conversationalist. Really, I am. This assessment is often difficult for my friends to accept since I am a people person and can strike up a conversation with anyone; so, make no mistake, no one is safe from my own personal brand of social lunacy. Neighbors, coworkers, even unsuspecting passersby are all
I was thrilled, after a very scary year of unemployment, to be hired as a part-time writing tutor at a local community college. The job was a perfect fit for me, and I felt right at home. Unfortunately, I couldn’t seem to manage my time and deal with this new commitment on top of my