Trust is a tricky thing. Long ago, I held writing workshops for groups of eight people meeting for two hours once a week in my living room, each course lasting eight weeks. At the outset, I would reiterate what I had explained to prospective participants when they called to sign up for the process: we would be doing my original writing exercises and there would be no lecturing or criticism or analysis of anything we wrote, by me or anyone in the group, and no one had to read aloud anything he or she wrote unless he or she wanted to.
Posts published in “Essays”
June 24th brings us to one of the littlest known stories about major league baseball. It began in Ipswich, County Suffolk, England in 1854, on…
Dear Steph, I am a Dubs fan. Always have been, always will be. I pass by Oracle Arena every day to and from work. Traffic…
Buck Miner, Mattole’s 90-year-old blind troubadour, celebrated the North Forks in a lyrical book, trailing a contemporary of his father, a salmon named Henrietta, as…
The Pacific-slope Flycatchers who entrusted a corner of this ranch house for their nest have fledged their baby Flycatchers and moved on, leaving behind a…
What's your favorite type of music? Chances are it's from the time you were young, probably even a teenager. This is likely due not just…
When my daughter was getting a divorce a while ago I sent my grandson a pup tent and told him to go sleep in the…
I'm sitting here looking at the February 11 issue of the AVA and wondering what I should make of the fact of my work being…
As the older of my two daughters went off to her senior prom last weekend, I couldn’t help but think back to a trip to…