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Showing posts from December, 2014

My Desk 2014

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As 2014 draws to a close, a quick note from my writing desk(s):

You might already know that I travel from place to place when I write. Sometimes I find a table inside a coffee shop, sometimes I wander around outside. Most of this movement is helpful in that it keeps me fresh and wide-eyed. It helps me pause and take notice, even if the view is a stormy parking lot or a soggy street corner.

No matter where I land, I love my work. In 2014, I've been lucky enough to slowly reframe my days so that writing and well-being are at the center. 

I can't say enough how grateful I am for this time.

Writing is what brings me alive. Stories of love and survival matter to me. They help me connect to the people I love. They help me learn. No matter where I perch with my laptop or notebook, stories help me to see what makes this strange and difficult world so precious.

And yes, I want to contribute in some small way. I'm working to shape one place, one corner, one body of work to better r…

Other Forms

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Sometimes, when I wander the world, I think about the other art forms I could have chosen if I hadn't become a writer. The mystery and grace of music calls to me. The sheer physicality of dance is tantalizing. The essential powers of image and color are so elemental I rely on them constantly in my own language work.

Yesterday, I stumbled on a small exhibit at a rather hoity-toity gallery in downtown Ballard. I don't normally go into this particular gallery because I've had at least one experience with a certain clerk where I felt, errr, out of place and naive for inquiring about the price of an oh-so-expensive piece of antique jewelry. On this day, I'd seen the clerk (also the owner and chief artist) leave the gallery and walk down the street, so when I peered into the window and thought about entering, I felt suddenly emboldened and adventurous. I went in.

The art that I found was so exquisitely beautiful that I wished at once that I'd had something to do with its…