Sunday Six

An only slightly belated six sentences for Sunday, February 23: Here, the rain comes in when it storms. The wind plays what remains of the palace like a flute. The weeds creep across the broken marble courtyards and climb up over the statues there, small birds roost in the rafters and little unseen creatures – …

Sunday Six

Six sentences for Sunday, February 16: I was fully twenty-five when we were married and already long acquainted with the silences of empty rooms. In the passing of solitary hours I was well-versed. I sometimes think that’s why he chose me. He imagined that, spinster that I was, I must have learned the trick of …

Reading Recommendation: “Snow,” Shelley Jackson

This reading recommendation comes courtesy of LiAnn, who has impeccable taste and is forever suggesting the best stuff. This one is particularly relevant, as we're having yet more snow today: Shelley Jackson (author of Skin, a story in tattoos, among other awesome endeavors) is writing a story in the snow. She's sharing it one word …

“White Fire”

Discovering that I can use find/replace to change all the double spaces after full stops in my document into single spaces may be one of the most revelatory moments of my life as a writer. I don't even want to begin to consider what this says about me.

Sunday Six

Six sentences for Sunday, February 9: This lake was home to a white swan. Though the swan left every autumn to migrate south, it was to the lake that she always returned in the spring, and it was her favorite place in the whole world. She spent many long hours diving in the murky water …

A Belated Sunday Six

A belated six sentences for Sunday, February 2: Sometimes, driving home, I find myself thinking of you. I don’t know what it is that reminds me—yellows squares of train windows sliding by, lights hanging in unfinished buildings, neon signs for hospitals, I don’t know. But sometimes you come back to me so vividly: Sitting knock-kneed …