Instagram tells me that Glennon is visiting Alaska with Abby and her two kids. And Oprah.
How much of writing is re-writing? How much of living is re-living? I sip my coffee. I remember the voice inside of me croaking out; she’s hoarse; she’s deep; she’s poised. I remember shouting for someone to love me. Men. All of them. Love me. I remember this voice changing. Going dark for boys with… Continue reading Your Writing Voice
What did you do to pass the time? She said, checking her watch. Digital. Big. A thick gold cuff around her wrist that made her bones look even smaller.
After reading The Nightingale, WW2 won’t get out of my head. A good book transports you; a great book makes you forget that you aren’t actually there. France in WW2 is not the happiest place to take a mental vacation. But I can’t help but see the significance in modern times, how I ended the… Continue reading The Nightingale and Now: A Trip to WW2
The ‘next great American novel’ is likely one without distinguishable grid lines. It is the voice of a refugee fleeing terror or an illegal immigrant fighting poverty. It has no real roots except where one is running from. It is a story for the road.
“Women are still in emotional bondage as long as we need to worry that we might have to make a choice between being heard and being loved.” ― Marianne Williamson, A Woman’s Worth This isn’t to say we are victims. We are not. We have been conditioned, sure. To divide love into parts: what is acceptable; what… Continue reading Being Heard and Being Loved