When I was 49, I thought, “You know, I’ve always wanted to go into the Peace Corps. Maybe I don’t really need to be writer; maybe this isn’t meant to be.” So I downloaded Peace Corps applications. I found that they did take old people. And I was really thinking about doing a whole other change in my life.
I’ve been able to give myself time, money, and a room of my own. So no excuses, and no regrets.
by Rachel Leal
For me, the kabbalist’s courtyard and the goings on at the Temple Mount—they’re a literary gold mine. I had to capture these worlds, the holy parts, the ridiculous, the diversity, and layeredness, for want of a better term. I did fear someone else might get there first and only see the ridiculous parts.
by Sonya Chung
“In a strange way, the book received more attention because it was an e-book, not less. People were pleasantly surprised when the book turned out to be—how do I put it without sounding obnoxious?—a good read.”
“I write. It’s an action, not an identity. For me, writing has always been the way I’ve come to know my own mind, feeling through the sounds of words to the forms they make, and from those forms to the life beyond them.”
“That stepping outside of who you are—there are definite ways to do so. If you have the passion, please do.”
I have a bad memory, except for the moment or times that I remember well. It wasn’t really a choice; it’s the only way I can write. If I tried to use a longer narrative I would bore myself sick with myself. I am also not enamored of chronology. This happened and then this, and then this, is just plain boring. But one vivid memory and another really punctuate a life, or mine, anyway. The interstitial stuff, like what were my jobs, are uninteresting. Unless, of course, they are.