Still Life

We have sat quietly in front of our computer screens in California, Washington, New Mexico, Mexico, India, Canada, and elsewhere – through pandemic, divorce, social unrest, insurrection, the death of loved ones, catastrophic wildfire. We are not really special. The whole world has done this, even if “meditation” has not been the intention, or if the quiet has lasted just the space of a heartbeat, now and then.

Inside of all the turbulence, there has been still life.

Dear Eavan Boland

I pitched something to Lit Hub and they took it. A dream. But bittersweet.  Because it’s for Eavan Boland. It’s about motherhood, and middle age, and passion and confusion and regret.  So it’s also for all mothers who have art stirring, and waiting, inside them. Go be you. I know it feels hard. But do…

I Refuse. And I Nurture, Too.

The seed of this piece of writing is fatigue.The seed of this piece of writing is anger.The seed of this piece of writing is curl-up-in-a-ball-and-remember-that-shitty-Christian-pregnancy-clinic-that-showed-you-oversized-photos-of-fetuses-and-cry-but-no!-there’s-so-much-work-to-do-plus-your-kids-need-you-and-so-do-other-people-too. Right now I have three pieces of work to do, in front of me–One is a book review about British concentration camps during famine, plague, and war in India and…