Essays on life, personal style, the writing process, and the eternal wisdom of Strunk & White.
“. . . when the fine hairs on my arms are standing and the air smells of ozone and my breath turns cold—these are the signs I’ve learned to recognize when there’s a great story in my presence. This may sound like a possession. It kind of is.”
Read MoreThat’s our country. The agony and the misogyny.
Read More“Out of thirty-four form rejections, I have received a single personal one: the Hallmark card of literary rejections. The situation is bleak indeed when your spirits are buoyed by this.“
Read More“I thought about walking out into the Peconic bay with the gown in my arms and holding the ballooning white fabric under. The gentle fringe of the dots would waver and flutter like eyelashes when I plunge it down down down, into the dirty blue water. Then when the burbling stopped and everything fell silent and still, I'd let the tide carry it out to sea like an exhausted cotton Edna Pontellier.”
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