Writing

I’ve been meaning to post about Writer’s Week for some time. I’ve had difficulty finding the words to summarize what a great experience it was. Yesterday, however, I found a thick packet of letters from students in my mailbox. Rather than use my own words, I’m going to borrow some of theirs, which moved me

I’ve just spent a fair amount of time reading (and, alas, rejecting) submissions, and a few of them brought to mind things we’ve never published. Or, if we have, I can’t recall them. I’m not saying we’d never publish flashes with these things in them, but it’s probably pretty telling that we haven’t before now.

I am deeply in love with the writings of one David James Duncan. I found his first novel, “The River Why,” entirely by accident at a Crown Books in Seattle something like fifteen years ago. Not long after reading it, I somehow found myself on the phone with my godsister, with whom I hadn’t spoken

That was the sentence my father sent hurtling toward me during my phone call to him to wish him a happy Father’s Day. I was telling him some of the things that have happened with SmokeLong, and some of the things we have in the works. And, if I hadn’t been so angry and defensive,

Last week, I rented a couple of documentaries. One was “Lost in La Mancha,” which was about Terry Gilliam’s disastrous attempt to make a film about Don Quixote. The two surprises in this film for me were that I walked away liking both Terry Gilliam and Johnny Depp a little bit less. Nothing major. I