Two years ago, I read an interview in Hobart with my undergraduate advisor Brian Evenson. (Yes, go read it!) There’s nothing quite like being published in the same magazine that publishes your literary heroes, and I’m very excited that my nonfiction piece is part of Hobart’s online baseball feature.
Past Time is about baseball (of course) and about how things you once loved stay with you—even if you wish they might not.
Happy weekend, everybody! I hope spring is treating you as well as it is in Atlanta!
To quote Sam Sanders, one of my favorite podcasters: Hey, y’all. (Check out his podcast “It’s Been a Minute” — it might be one of the best things you do all week.)
Since I’ve rediscovered that any moment waiting is an opportunity for words, I’ve been reading in my quiet moments more and more. One piece I enjoyed this week is Kayla Smith’s “Invisible Neighbors”. This story is a nonfiction glimpse into rural Mississippi with a pinch of Stephen King horror. I wasn’t expecting the strangeness of Kayla’s story to linger as long as it has. The story itself tells of Kayla’s neighbors over years of Christmases, and each sentence sparks. For example, she opens the story by talking about her grandparents: “Paw Paw is practically deaf, but he still has eyes like a sniper.”
I hope your March waiting moments are happier than those of February.
Obligatory disclaimer: I make no money off this posting, no matter how many links you click, and Kayla and I are friends. (The honor is all mine.)
As I plow further into 2018, I’ve been thinking a lot about how progress is made. Sometimes I find myself getting impatient with everything from how fast the tea gets hot to why I haven’t finished that short story yet. (Not to mention traffic and waiting three light-cycles to get through the left turn.)
But I’m coming to settle into the fact that everything happens in baby steps, and sometimes you can’t even see that you’re moving forward until you stop to look back at where you came from. When I get frustrated with myself about why I’m not skipping and sprinting (yet), I try to remind myself that it is impossible to do those things until I take all the baby steps.
And I’m beginning to think that, at least with those Big Life Goals, baby steps are all there is.
Happy Tuesday, everybody!
Apparently I’ve become a poet — maybe next, I’ll turn into a frog! I’ve been looking for a lighthouse (painting? picture? paperweight?) for a little while, and it prompted this.
Thanks to Dual Coast Magazine for helping me share “Beaches” with the world. “From behind us, a beam of light sweeps the black milk sky.”
Hi to new and long-time readers!
Some of you may have heard, but I’m very excited to be part of Word Riot‘s latest issue with “Ashes on Cape Cod” — “I asked Jenny to be my girlfriend at lunch on the third day of seventh grade, after math class…”
In other news, the kitchen smells of baking olive and rosemary bread, the dog’s asleep on the couch, and I’m getting ready for the first day of school.
Happy August, everyone.