When I finally began to write about what I knew (it’s obvious— but it’s not obvious until you know what it is you know!) it felt like opening a door and coming home. This wasn’t really a matter of the subjects—people, relationships, families: I’d tried all that before. It was a matter of the voice; it was that I discovered what I sounded like, what I needed to sound like, to tell my truth about what I saw.
by Joe Schuster
The truth is, however, that . . . you did not, of course, disappear. You were just continuing to live your life and write—write a lot. It was just that most people did not notice.
by Juhi Singhal Karan
Writing a book together requires trust, honesty, and communication, like any other relationship. This month we bring to you five writing duos who bloomed together on their collaborative journey.
by Ann Pancake
Finally, the question that when I was honest with myself, actually frightened me: What in the world is driving this? . . . But I could only point to the place in my chest where the sensor hovered. What the sensor was guided by, I could not fathom at all.
by Dena Santoro
Mystical imagery—palms, eyes, enigmatic vistas—pervade the work; when Saar appropriates a single color the impact is intensified.
by Athena Kildegaard
At first, he found the calls to prayer exotic. . . . Eventually, though, Frederickson noted, the call “turned out to be something that I really grew to appreciate despite my apprehension and distrust of it at the beginning.”
by Kaulie Lewis
Though Schles doesn’t qualify for true Bloomer status—Invisible City was first published in 1988, when he was 28—the book was something of a cult title and was out of print for over twenty years.