Essays on life, personal style, the writing process, and the eternal wisdom of Strunk & White.
“I thought about walking out into the Peconic bay with the gown in my arms and holding the ballooning white fabric under. The gentle fringe of the dots would waver and flutter like eyelashes when I plunge it down down down, into the dirty blue water. Then when the burbling stopped and everything fell silent and still, I'd let the tide carry it out to sea like an exhausted cotton Edna Pontellier.”
Read More“I got caught up in the bizarre horse race of blogging and started to feed the fashion machine, instead of letting it nourish me creatively.”
Read More“The declaration point when writers start calling themselves writers is an important part of the journey. One that isn’t immediately clear. Fortunately there is no flagged island that you have to reach in order to call yourself a writer. The only thing you have to do is write, but speaking from experience, it takes longer for other people to come around and believe you.”
Read More“We won't always succeed. But that doesn't mean the American Dream is dead, it may be fractured across the country like route 66, but it's still there if you look for it.”
Read More“I found myself wishing we'd gotten there years before, so we could feel more of the pathos of the original inhabitants and less of the people hell-bent on inserting themselves via their art into a hostile landscape that had nothing to do with them. Maybe it's just me that longs for the opposite, a place to make its mark upon me.”
Read More
