Writing in the time of COVID-19: Day Seventy Two

Two colorful banana spiders have replaced my spider-friend, and even though they may be her offspring, I just don’t have the same relationship with them. I suppose it’s because they’re not my first. Too, they have not yet taught me anything more fascinating about their spider ways. Yet. I’ll keep watching. It’s Sunday morning, and…

Writing in the time of COVID-19: Day Twenty-One

It’s like the whole year is being canceled:* Tokyo Olympics. Kentucky Derby Burning Man Indianapolis 500 Wimbledon March Madness Major League Baseball Cannes Film Festival Sydney Film Festival Tribeca Film Festival St. Patrick’s Day Parades Cherry Blossom Festivals South by Southwest Festival The Rolling Stones Elton John Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo Tucson Festival of…

Storyknife #4: What A Dream

She’d already given me a brief tour of Frederica cabin. Brief because the cabin is perfectly sized small. Brief because I sensed she did not want to intrude on what would be my writing space and home for the next month. Brief because I sensed something else going on. As she walked out the door…

Storyknife #3: Sightings

I’m not going to lie. The days here in Alaska during my 30-day writing residency run together. There are days when I sit at my writing desk, glancing up between bouts of laying down paragraphs, barely noting the drying fireweed of fall in the field beyond my window, barely remembering there are volcanoes across the…

Storyknife #2 Halfway There

It’s a rare day when the phone call comes. The phone call. The one that marks a before and after. When the phone rang that day for me, I remember glancing at my phone and seeing a number I didn’t recognize and “Alaska” as the caller’s location. Immediately, names started cycling through my head. Who did I know in…

Storyknife #1: Arriving Alaska

Old guy. Cane. Black fleece vest. Black trucker’s cap. Black slacks. Black leather orthotic sneakers. He veers my way. I think he’s going to ask for help. Directions somewhere. How to get to baggage claim, maybe. His cane click clacks with every step. “I don’t know,” he says when he gets a few feet away…