Tag: Writing

  • Creator & Creation

    Creator & Creation

    Consider today’s post a sort of prolegomenon. Or a prologue to a prolegomenon. Consider this a 1st installment on a discursive inquiry inspired by a quotation from Haruki Murakami’s Novelist As a Vocation (gifted to me by my sister). What are we creating when we create, when we write, when we tell a story, when…

  • Enough Words… Action!

    Enough Words… Action!

    I’m in a peculiar spot. Actually, I’m literally in a perfect spot, gloriously garretted in the icehouse loft, massaging thoughts into words into this blog post with Carley snoring contentedly on a sheepskin rug nearby. A perfect but peculiar spot. The former literal, and the latter figurative. Enough words… Action! I’m 494 posts into a…

  • Type. Write. Explore.

    Type. Write. Explore.

    There’s something about an old typewriter — especially a really, *really* old typewriter — that tickles my nostalgia, the quaint yearning for a past that I know only secondhand from films and photographs. Perhaps it’s sentimentality for a more analog, less virtual world. Or an association with authors, journalists, black and white conviction, the physicality…

  • Impermanent Perspectives

    Impermanent Perspectives

    Impermanent Perspectives (a reflection on the protean process of construction, ephemeral POVs, and a hint at the overlap with creative writing.)

  • Remembering and Recounting

    “Life is not what one lives, but what one remembers and how one remembers it in order to recount it.” — Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Living to Tell the Tale As I organize multiple pieces of Rosslyn’s renovation, our littoral Adirondack existence, and my still-young marriage into some sort of coherent storyline I wrestle consciously with occasional…

  • Almost Logical

    Within minutes we were tripping over each other, drunk with excitement, imagining one whimsical “What if…” scenario after another. No filter, no caution. Our reveries flitted from one idyllic snapshot to another. “What if I finally sat down and finished my novel?” After dawdling self indulgently for a dozen years – writing, rewriting, discarding, rewriting,…