It's hard to keep a play alive moment-to-moment, you know? But there's another part of it that I really love, which is that you never know.
I appreciate all of the unexpected places, internal and external, that my writing has taken me.
To be whole. To be complete. Wildness reminds us what it means to be human, what we are connected to rather than what we are separate from.
There is an art to writing, and it is not always disclosure. The act itself can be beautiful, revelatory, and private.
Not everything is meant for all to hear.
Whatever artistry may occur within the manuscript, the magic happens for me in the last draft. Whatever I have been resistant to say must finally be said. In the end, I see where my pencil has been leading me.
There is something very sensual about a letter. The physical contact of pen to paper, the time set aside to focus thoughts, the folding of the paper into the envelope, licking it closed, addressing it, a chosen stamp, and then the release of the letter to the mailbox - are all acts of tenderness.
If the Saudis were culpable, they should be held accountable. If they had nothing to do with 911, they have nothing to fear.
It's often said that a traumatic experience early in life marks a person forever, pulls her out of line, saying, "Stay there. Don't move.
I've gained a few pounds around the middle. The only lower body garments I own that still fit me comfortably are towels.
My epiglottis is full of bees!