Since I've decided to write my mother's novel, ahem, I'm rereading her letters. Letters she saved from other people and letters she sent to me. The novel she started is, after all, veiled autobiography. My mother once wrote me, A la M [the ex-boyfriend], I just decided to go ahead and write a novel, as …
Category: neurotic thinking
The answer is 42.
I've no ideas for blogging. I've ideas for stories, for art, for conversation, and no time to pursue them. My laptop won't accept any discs and so I can't get my scanner to work because I can't use the start up disc. One camera is broken and the other camera needs batteries. My writing time …
the death man
NaNoWriMo is coming. I haven't been writing and have been overwhelmed at work, and so thinking that I can write a novel in November is foolishness. But I love NaNoWriMo. And I've got an idea. Before my mother died, she started a novel. She called it The Death Man and it was autobiographical. It is …
The Past Is a Discovered Country But Poorly Understood
The picture here was taken only after about two or three days in Bulgaria as a Peace Corps volunteer. It was July 4th and I hardly knew any of my fellow volunteers. Over the next 2 years perhaps we got to know each too well in some ways and not nearly enough in others. Seventeen …
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Understanding Character
I walked toward the door of Joe's thinking my worries were over. Not that my stomach didn't twist a bit. That Guy might be there. But that was silly. He'd had one disagreement with the owners, been accused of bothering female customers, it is only in my writer imagination that he'd be in there. I …
If you accidentally swallowed leaches with your soup…
If you could give guilt a physical form, what would it be? Pick any emotion. What would anger be? Or love? Or apathy? One month ago, we got a second dog. Our first dog, Porter, is now 14. We got him 13 years ago at the animal shelter. A Corgi mix, he is an awesome …
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And that’s the end.
I went to Joe's today to buy coffee and breakfast tacos. One of the owners, D., was working the counter, and he asked if I had a moment to talk. D. talked to That Guy on the phone. They'd had some other issue with him--"weird" chimed in D's partner--but he also talked about me. D. …
Cover Yourself
When I tell people I teach English as a second language, they usually say, "Oh. You speak Spanish?" "No." I wait a beat. "Most of my students don't speak Spanish either." My students come from Mexico, Chile, Argentina, Colombia, Venezuela, Brazil, Spain, France, Cameroon, Ivory Coast, Iran, Iraq, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Jordan, Turkey, Pakistan, Taiwan, …
Free!
I scan the parking lot and don't see the car I think That Guy drives. My friend, E., and I walk into Joe's, and we see our friend K. He's finishing up a short story. I look around. I look around again. No. That Guy is not here. At the counter, the barista asks me …
Ordinary Mind and Melodramatic Mind Duke It Out
I try to live my life like a reasonable person. No, I don't want any melodrama with my latte, thank you very much. But part of my brain runs as if it were trying to write its own melodramatic novel. In Bulgaria, I used to ride trams that had accordion sections connecting the compartments. When …
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Marta Bacon 