Just to Wind Up in the Dirt
Abandoned buildings reveal how delicate silence is. As I walked through the decay, each drop of water was a point of order. Footsteps. Scratching. My beating heart preparing me to bolt for the doors. Even though I enjoy exploring these places, I’m like a rabbit waiting for a twig to snap. Perfectly still, but never…
Killing Ideas: An Update
I spent a non-insignificant amount of time this week with my head in my hands trying to figure out what to do with a short story. I’ve often thought of “writers block” as a silly concept, one that reveals something about the writer who “experiences” it. While I may be wrong, I’m not familiar with…
Intimacy with Failure
At 4:45 on Wednesday I woke up and drove to Mount Rogers. After arriving at an isolated trailhead after four hours of driving, the hike seemed irrational. Fog was suffocating the mountain. I had no cell service, I wasn’t dressed for the rain, and I was frightened. I’d never hiked alone before. A fiction teacher…
