Is “Coffee Shop Quirky” a legitimate literary genre? If it isn’t, then it ought to be, as that seems to be my niche. In honor of this most revered holiday, National Coffee Day, I would love to share an old short story of mine that celebrates the creative relationship between draughts and drafts, caffeination and imagination. After all, “A steaming beverage is often the friendliest of muses.”
In No Time to Spare, Le Guin seems to challenge Franklin’s pervasive, pernicious quote that we must “write something worth reading or do something worth writing about.” What is worth reading and writing about? Galaxies, journeys, and revolutions, certainly, but also cats, trees, and eggs. What is worth doing? Imagining different worlds, exploring important questions, and creating magnificent narratives, most definitely, but also caring for pets, cultivating traditions, and cooking breakfasts.
I have always struggled with Sundays. I have always loved keeping busy throughout the whole day—even on weekends—but the very structure of Sundays is set
I have been journaling for over ten years now. My first entry from 2010 begins with the ever-eloquent “Arghhhh!” of a furious thirteen-year-old. I was
Look at that massive stack of books with your little pink notebook on the top, open like the bud of a daisy and crawling with
He began the fall in wealth, His arms hanging heavy with green, new-money Made in spring. It was the cash that grows on trees: Easily