Dear Notebook, You are the depository of my dreams. Thank you for standing by me day after day, no harsh comments, no back talk. You take my words, and my artwork too. Sometimes I make just a scribble. Sometimes I draw a line and call it a day. There is no comment, no judgment and no frowns, only a blank page with blue lines. I consider you my friend. You have stood by me through it all: my aspirations, my dreams, even my joy, guilt and sorrow, my frustrations and my hopes. I write to you when I’m lonely, when I can’t say the words aloud even to myself, when no one seems to understand me, when ..read more

In the halcyon days of my early twenties, my boyfriend and I lived for a summer in a tipi in a field of wild blueberries. Vermont nights can be cold, especially in June, and we snuggled on our mattress, surrounded by a gold cast-off carpet spread over those berries, and imagined our future: he as a carpenter and I as a writer. Early one morning while we slept, a woman called outside those canvas walls, “Help!” She and her young daughter lived in a rented room down the road. Her car hadn’t started that morning. She was desperate to get to work. My boyfriend pulled on his jeans and t-shirt, drov ..read more

I’m stepping into the cold water for the first time with my kayak. Five experienced paddling friends wait to take me down the Nantahala, a class II/III whitewater river in Western North Carolina. “Just follow me,” one friend says. I watch as he leans his boat toward the middle of the river and takes off. I panic, thinking I will be left behind. As I sit down and swing my feet inside my kayak, the current sweeps me sideways, then backward. I struggle for control and think  I’m out of my mind to be doing this! That was the same thought I had when I started writing my memoir Craving Spring ..read more

“Mom,” said my seventh-grade daughter Lily. “This friend at school seems to like everyone else but me.” I know who she’s referring to but avoids using the teen’s name. I know my daughter wants to keep names private. “’I’m sorry,” I said. “But being liked isn’t the most important thing in the world. You’re learning to be yourself.” I added: “Seventh graders can be trolls.” And: “How could someone not like you? You’re amazing.” Despite having dispensed contradictory advice, I know my daughter will be OK. She’ll learn. Her issue is typical of a middle-schooler. I don’t tell her that, at age 55, I ..read more

My decision to subscribe to The New Yorker mid-pandemic was short-sighted. When I clicked on the Facebook ad (such a deal, how could I pass it up?), I felt a familiar dread in the pit of my stomach. Subscribing to prestigious journals was something I often felt compelled to do, but that decision was always accompanied by a wiser voice. Don’t you know better by now? As a writer, it troubles me that reading doesn’t hold my interest. I get bored. I can’t concentrate. I rarely get to it in the first place. How could this be? I write with fervor and passion; it is something I must do. To not have a ..read more

Trauma shattered my sense of wholeness and coherence. It made me alien to myself, and I imagined to others. I had only snapshots to go on, like an old movie reel that got stuck, stuttered and jumped to the end. Writing about trauma has the power to heal us and be a beacon for others. We can create art from ashes when we offer ourselves compassion, care, containment, and love. Writing saved me. I write to feel more fully human, to be witnessed, and to remind myself I matter. I write what I know and let myself move into what I don’t, writing into the voids and finding what fills the empty spaces ..read more

One day you’re in class listening to Donna Talarico’s voice on Zoom. Your teacher suggests you get involved with Hippocampus Magazine as a reader. That summer you’re at HippoCamp: A Conference for Creative Nonfiction Writers, meeting Allison K Williams. She hugs you. You are surprised to discover this new community. Inside you is a writer but also a battle. A child-like part wants to cocoon and hide. An adult part—the part in charge, you often remind yourself—craves growth and connection. You apply for a position. Somehow, you get it. You stand a little taller. You are a Lit Mag Editor. You ca ..read more

Whether you’re working on a book-length work or on shorter pieces, the fellowship of other writers can help maintain your writing momentum. Perhaps your work was recently rejected, and you feel discouraged, or you must produce a certain number of pages on deadline. Two free resources you may find helpful are NaNoWriMo, a month of writing that takes place remotely each November, and the London Writers Salon, an online community based in London. You don’t have to write fiction during NaNoWriMo, you can write anything. The London Writers Salon holds hour-long group writing sessions. They’ll send ..read more

It was the fourth day of an intense online seminar focused on the prerequisites of getting your book published—developing social media relationships, publishing in journals, expanding writing community, and where and how to find an agent. I was speeding through each presentation when Brevity editor-in-chief, Dinty W. Moore posed four questions. I paused. I questioned why I was riding this train. I pondered how I could continue the journey at a different speed. I reevaluated the destination. I ditched the excess baggage. Answering those four questions put me back on track. Here are Moore’s ques ..read more

The recipients of a major creative nonfiction writing grant I’d applied for had just been announced. I wasn’t among the winners of thousands of dollars. An email had recently thudded into my inbox. “…we regret to say that your application was not recommended for funding this cycle….” I logged on to Twitter and squinted, as if the screen were the bright spring sun. I wasn’t ready to read the winners’ joyful tweets, not yet. I logged off. I was disappointed, but this was progress. This was the first time I dared to apply for this grant. In the past I avoided applying, too afraid of the sharpness ..read more