The Blog
Notes from the writing desk.
Short pieces, working drafts, and the small thinking that happens between bigger work.
There is a question I have been avoiding for years. Not intentionally....
There are houses that belong to us, and there are houses that...
There is a peculiar kind of strength that rarely receives admiration. It...
By the end of August, the orchard always began to feel abandoned....
For forty-two years, Elias Rowan lived alone beside the sea. The lighthouse...
During the day, it was loud and hurried — crowded with travelers...
People often imagine the writing life as something dramatic — sudden inspiration,...
Some were written late at night after difficult conversations. Others appeared during...
There was a time when I measured reading by numbers. How many...
Every morning begins the same way. The kettle hums softly in the...