Where Do the Children Play?

Where Do the Children Play?

Back then, we lived with the magic of play and exploration; lying under a backyard tree reading books, one after the other and the walking the mile to the library to borrow more books. We played marathon games of monopoly and sandlot baseball, or red rover.

A Speech by Robert Kennedy

A Speech by Robert Kennedy

“Some look for scapegoats, others look for conspiracies, but this much is clear; violence breeds violence, repression brings retaliation, and only a cleaning of our whole society can remove this sickness from our soul.”

Wisewomen and Trauma

Wisewomen and Trauma

  My novel Stony Kill tells the story of a complicated family, opening with the revelation of a family secret—the tragic story of a long ago shooting. The protagonist Joss Ryckman, a thirty-something Brooklyn baker, copes with the mystery of this shooting— was it accidental or not? This revelation soon follows the sudden death of […]

When I was Twenty-One  . . .

When I was Twenty-One . . .

When I was twenty-one in 1974, I spent two days at Dachau Concentration Camp in upper Bavaria. It was preserved as a memorial for all those who had died there . . .

Sweet Little Lies

Sweet Little Lies

The truth is we all lie . . . . Studies show that the art of the whopper is the daily practice of teenagers and septuagenarians alike—a social lie or two, a snippet of exaggeration . . .

We the People

We the People

“. . . Maybe I have learned some personal lessons. Twice I have married into republican families complete with edges of racism, a belief in creationism, and misogyny, not to mention a penchant for guns. . .”

Pie as Antidote

Pie as Antidote

“. . . My grandmother’s pies were another story. Her piecrusts had more flavor and were tenderer and more flakey. I wanted to know why?”

Small Things

Small Things

. . . My husband asks me from time to time, “Why did you marry me?” My answer is always the same, “Because you had a gas grill.” It’s as good a reason as any, because I cannot explain why or how I love him. I just do. . .”

Allure of the Woods

Allure of the Woods

“When I was in high school, I used to pilfer cigarettes from my grandmother’s pack—Lark filters—and sneak off into the woods to smoke them one after the other.”

The Stories We Tell

The Stories We Tell

. . . I laughed, recognizing Dad’s prank of leaving a narrative for the next user—an Irish trick he often practiced. There were others, as well: wrapping a toilet roll in fancy Christmas paper and gifting the most important member of the family with a useful item. . .

Star In Her Eye

raising a rare girl

Writing and Illustrating

Sharing Information About Writing and Illustrating for Children

Sentence first

An Irishman's blog about the English language.

Obscure Vermont

Weirdness, Esoterica and Forsaken Places in and around Vermont

Kenyan Library

Life in the pages :) Literature Obsessed, Lover of Art & Photography... Say Hi and Stick Around.

Heartstring Eulogies

Conjured by Sarah Doughty

Deidra Alexander's Blog

I have people to kill, lives to ruin, plagues to bring, and worlds to destroy. I am not the Angel of Death. I'm a fiction writer.

ravencawl

Visual words

qwertyvsdvorak

Words Fail

nicholasjparr

to be confirmed

BEN TROVATO – Durban Poison

Columns, letters and rants