As the clock ticks on to midnight, I write. That's is my one New Year tradition. When the confetti falls and people cheer, I make sure my fingers tap across the keyboard as if this will make a difference. As if the writing gods will hear the tapping over all the other nonsense--noise makers, champagne …
Continue reading What’s that quote about reaching for the stars?
I may have nothing worthwhile to say, but literary agent Stephen Barbara does. For all you wannabe bestselling writers, read this. I have been lazy. I need to get back on that query letter horse and ride until the beast collapses. Whining is for vampires.
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.
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 …
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 …
I walked into the kitchen on a Saturday afternoon. "Do you want to make cookies?" my mom said. I was 14. "What?" A roll of cookie dough stretched across a cutting board. She tried to look casual. "Well, I've never made cookies for you. And I thought I'd be a good mom and, you know, …
"We're going to get married," dad said. "Sure. But you're going to have to show me the marriage certificate," I said. He laughed. "You don't believe me?" "Didn't you buy her a ring like five years ago?" "That was a nice ring. It was on sale. We got a real good deal." "Yeah, Dad. You …
It started with a bite. A mosquito bite on the back of the leg that seemed like nothing at all. But then came the swelling, the reddening, the blackening. Then came the daily trip to the doctor to change the tube in the leg. The daily change of soaked bandages. The inability to walk without …
I think it started by accident. I don't even remember who started, but my roommate, L., pulled a nursing textbook out of her bag and a shoulder pad fell onto the classroom floor. The next day I was at the library when I found shoulder pads in my bag. Shoulder pads in pockets. Shoulder pads …
Sometimes there aren't any stories, just lists of things to do. I hate that.
Marta Bacon 