Thoughts about writing, and the universe.
Where does a good story come from? What are its core ingredients? I found myself this week seeking inspiration, and little coming. I've set myself a goal of two new pieces to produce in the coming six-week push. I haven't started yet--I've been focusing on older projects. What do I need to get me started?... Continue Reading →
I am writing this afternoon from home in Norway. We made it back on New Year's Eve after a beautiful and wonderful Christmas together with my parents on the island of La Palma. I feel so fortunate to have been able to do this trip. Everyone has now made it home safely, and we'll start... Continue Reading →
The term ended in a flurry of hard work, and winter break has now opened up before us. Instead of going home this year, we have traveled to Spain, first to Madrid to visit friends of my husband's, then on to the Canary Islands off the southern coast of Morocco. In this post I will... Continue Reading →
The last few weeks, my bedtime reading has been another novel I found in the marvelous book storage room at school: Untouchable, published in 1935. It was Mulk Raj Anand's debut novel, written in English, and it marked the beginning of Anand's use of literature to argue against the British colonial presence in India as... Continue Reading →
Sometimes in my writing journey these last several years, I have taken issue with old writing advice--the mandate to show, don't tell; the focus on active verbs that overshadows the great work other verbs do; Western literature's myopic focus on conflict--these are all pieces of inherited writing wisdom that, with deeper thought on my own... Continue Reading →
In 1966, the Dominican writer Jean Rhys published her most celebrated work, the novella Wide Sargasso Sea. It marked her return to the literary scene after a near twenty-year's gap, and it inspired a large body of scholarship and study. Wide Sargasso Sea took as its focus the character of Bertha Mason in Charlotte Brontë's... Continue Reading →
Moving from the first to the second to the umpteenth draft is a slow and winding process. Sometimes we love it, seeing our writing transform, clearing away the debris of extra words, shifting our ideas into a clearer order--sometimes we hate it, when we're tinkering, perfectionizing, wondering if the changes we persist at make any... Continue Reading →
I'm an e-reader lover--the convenience of travel, the ready availability of English books when living in rural Norway, their searchability, the ability to convert my own writing into e-book format for a more authentic read-through--there are many things I love about these devices. But of course, the book as a physical object is not to... Continue Reading →
I worried I was making the wrong choice with books this school year. I worried the book was too long, that the students wouldn't read, and I worried that there was not enough depth of language to warrant the kind of study we needed. But I kept coming back to First They Killed My Father--I... Continue Reading →
Content warning: this post contains discussion of genocide and associated acts of violence, in the context of a literary analysis. The week has been packed. On Tuesday and Wednesday, I led student orientation workshops on diversity, introducing ideas of social identities, individual differences, and how assumptions arise when we meet people different from ourselves. The... Continue Reading →
Words like trees 