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Calling…

A huge pile of my own fiction sits a few inches away from me. Rows of fiction actually published sits all around me. And I can’t think of one worthwhile thing to say. Nonetheless, whatever you celebrate, may your celebration–quiet and alone or crowded and loud or somewhere in-between–be bright. Continue reading

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I hate your work.

The famous sculptor says to the aspiring sculptor his work “is amateurish at best. …They’re not good.” The aspiring sculptor falls into despair. Gives up his art. Gets a regular job. Of course, by the end of the sitcom, the worshipped sculptor comes back to admit he was just jealous. The younger man’s art is … Continue reading

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SHOUT

Most people were shouting and waving signs. It was a rainy, cold November day and I was standing in front of the Texas White House. I had no sign. I didn’t shout. I held my umbrella. One man had a bullhorn. He was tall and thin. Maybe in his 50s. He was part of the … Continue reading