writing life

Facets of clear amber stone that flash. There is a dimension between the flashes. Julie called it the interstices. That’s where the story, with all its trauma and love that Julie bequeathed me, lives.

We step onto firm ground when Marilyn gets to the thing that is waiting, underneath everything she says, the thing she can't forget. Right there, in the middle of the air, we're standing on something solid.

It seems to me, amidst our tragic circumstances, person to person, we are connecting with one another, that there is a new world coming forth. It may take time, this birth. But I believe it is happening...

Put yourself on a route that runs away from negative self-talk and toward mindful occupation of literal and figurative space in the world. Final destination? A productive, fulfilling writing life. Here’s how to get there:

Writers don't have more time than non-writers--they make more space for writing in their lives. Here's some guidance to help you uncover what's really keeping you from the page.

With writing, as with all people and practices that matter to us, we have to devote time and energy to maintaining their presence in our lives. Stacia Fleegal writes on how to be aware of the challenges and have a plan for balancing them.

The winter challenges me in this woods place where I live. Once the snows come, the fog—fogged in, iced in, or waiting for the plow to clear my driveway, the sander to free me—I am here, awaiting people I’ve come to depend on to free me. People who are so reliable they are like family. Gratitude becomes very clear to me in winter...