Paper is my canvas; memory my palette. I hold lightly my pen and begin to ‘paint’. I start with blue. In long graceful strokes across the canvas, I capture her…
Browsing: Arts
Those of us lucky enough to be lake-people know the gift of this kind of day: from the boat’s bow the sky is a deep, eternal blue. July heat, windless…
A man steps up to the microphone dressed like a maitre d’,black shirt and slacks, though he does not work here. He taps the mic with his finger—“Test. Test.”— then clears his throat. It is…
In the world of writers, there are two kinds: Plotters, and Pantsers. Those who pour days, months, or even years into figuring up just the right outlines for their stories…