by Robin Black
At the age of 39, just about two decades after having the dream that amplified my misguided conviction that genius should be my goal, I was finally able to write. Continue reading
by Robin Black
At the age of 39, just about two decades after having the dream that amplified my misguided conviction that genius should be my goal, I was finally able to write. Continue reading
by Kaulie Lewis
The “plucky, nonconformist, self-determined and self-realized person” who embodies a particular American ideal could also be a description of Iceberg Slim, a career pimp who turned to writing during the political turmoil of the 1960s. Continue reading
by Robin Black
A writer, of whatever age, needs to concern herself with the writing, its quality and its promise; and anxieties of any other kind . . . will always do more to hinder than to help. Continue reading
by Robin Black
This, for him, is moving in, as for me painting walls and hanging pictures is. He is all about acquiring knowledge. I am all about recasting a place into what I want it to be. Continue reading
by Robin Black
I was certain about cremation, but in fact a lot of our other opinions had softened over the years. . . . But softened isn’t really the right word. Our opinions didn’t soften. More accurately, we reacted to life. Continue reading