Hello, fellow truth seekers! Today, we are going to talk about something all of us (hopefully) have: Memory. As writers of words, I think we come back to our memory whether we want to or not. What we do with our memory seems to arbitrarily separate us into genres these days: fiction, creative nonfiction, and […]
We meet again, fellow logophile! Many of us have just gotten back from the Shiny Happy People Convention, AKA AWP, the all writers and writing programs convention. So many smiling faces. So many familiar faces both wandering the vast isles and behind the booths. I have gotten more than one request to do a recap […]
Hello, fellow scribes! We meet again. Today, I want to talk about something that has been bothering me for a while because I just now (after years and years) got it. All you have to do to be a good writer is write what you know. Wait! I know what you’re going to say: […]
My earth mother told me to rub cocoa butter on my gray winter legs, and never fake bake with UV rays…
Hello fellow Word Processor Mavericks! When I first was asked to write about voice I thought I had drawn the short end of the stick…
It’s that time of year again, fellow scribes! For anyone who loves books. For anyone who loves writers. It is time to heed the call…
Tap into your Southern blood and blame Obama: A black president. A black nerd president. Anything is possible. These days, alien-space-Vikings seem as unreal as the Middle Passage…
Hello fellow pen slingers! To kick off the inaugural blog post here on Free Lunch I want to talk about the one question that bothers writers the most…
This is a story about a pair of red ankle-strap shoes. High heels, of course, high heels that give the longest legs to even the shortest of girls—in this case, an Italian girl who stood just a little short of five feet tall, in the Jersey City of 1942…
Frankie and I protect our town, on the scoreboard and at the town fair, still wearing our jerseys, proud of our colors…
Tonight she’s in a park, sprawled out on her back under the shelter of a scratched-up willow tree…
My work is a reflection of past cultures, distorted by a mirror of aged antiquity, seen through a haze of modern neon lights…
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