Last summer I went to Provincetown to the Fine Arts Work Center, to participate in Social Justice Week, a gathering of writers, artists, and activists concerned with, well, social justice. Gun violence, climate change, police brutality, immigration, homophobia, racism – the world is full of injustice. Read More
THE FARTHERMOST VIEW
I stepped out of my office in downtown Orleans one day in September and headed out for a walk. I like having an office in town, and being able to stroll along the street staring into store windows, pretending I'm seeking inspiration for a brilliant essay or best-selling poem, and not having to stop every nine seconds for a short companion to sniff at a suspicious piece of grass or water an ornamental azalea. Read More
Starting to write an essay, or a poem, or a short story, is like going shopping with the whole world as your marketplace.
It's like the cereal aisle: a mile-long aisle six shelves high filled with brightly colored boxes, and you walk slowly along reading the similar-sounding names of the cereals. All bran, Multi bran, Multibran flakes, all bran grains. Deciding among 200 kinds of cereal is daunting and even anxiogenic.