I'm in front of the full-length mirror on my closet door, horrified by the red mark creeping across my abdomen. Continue reading. . .
You did it! You hit send on your last round of revisions! You’re done.
Congratulations! Continue reading. . .
A few years ago, when I was in the throes of revising my memoir manuscript and query, I read Jane Friedman’s article “It’s Not As Bad As You Think” on The Brevity Blog. Continue reading. . .
Six weeks after I sent Brian on a fruitless search for a rat I swore ran under the radiator, the women on my street had a cookie exchange. Continue reading. . .
I was still pregnant with Andy when Dad and I made the decision to remove the possibility of your existence from our lives. Continue reading. . .
The electric blue bedroom wall bowed in, where the hundred-year-old tree had crushed it. Continue reading. . .
The news of Joan Didion's death one day shy of six months after losing my 87-year old grandmother, reminds me of the ways in which Ms. Didion’s writing gave me a glimpse into the psyche of my grandma. Continue reading. . . .
In high school, a quiet girl with wild red curls was in my honors English class. Continue reading. . .
It wasn't until several weeks afterwards, once her sons were back in school, that Maggie Olsen heard through the local gossip channels . . . Continue reading