This Writer's Office Full of Images

My eyes shift from the shelves of books to the blue glass vases in the window above my desk. I stare and remember the dump site where Dad and I dug bottles before my eyes move right again to see Mom in her blue satin dress next to me, age 4. I skim the picture John...

Taking Back My Time for Writing

But at the end of the day (the end of my life) I want to have written all the fiction and nonfiction there is in me to write. I don’t know when that end will be. And will that end question then be: Do you wish you’d spent more time on Twitter? Not for me. —...