Category: Writer In Residence
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The Other Things We Do: Going to the Dogs
Rugsy I like words. I like the way they roll around in my mouth like hard candy. I like to suck on them till they become part of me and trickle out through my fingers onto the page. I love words so much I want to sleep with them, marry them, love them forever, and…
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The Other Things We Do: Unlike My Childhood, Our Son Grows Up With Bugs
The Crablike Spiny Orb Weaver To clear any immediate confusion, yes I grew up in Wisconsin and encountered The Mosquito. Yes I saw bugs; yes they stung and bit me, but never once in my childhood memory did I encounter a human who studied or admired insects. In my twenties, a black beetle, as big…
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The Other Things We Do: Steven Sherrill and The Trifurcated Brain
For most of my creative life I have identified as a writer, and the bulk of my public “success” has been in the world of words. But, forever, I have been diligently (if haphazardly) making paintings and (with much more fear) trying to find my way into making music. My tastes as a reader/viewer/listener are…
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The Other Things We Do: Why I Cook
There is no olfactory equivalent to a white noise machine. The only way to combat a bad smell is with a good one. I love to cook because I love to eat, but secondarily because I love to smell. One recent Fall weekend, when Martin Seay and I got back to Chicago after being away…
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The Other Things We Do: Bread and the Creative Process
I started baking professionally around the same time that my official writing career began, and by that I mean my first undergraduate workshop. When I think about those early days of baking, waking up at 11:30pm to walk to my midnight shift, tired rubbery skin and watery eyes, I first see a giant orange bucket…
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The Other Things We Do: Baseball, Story, and Kathleen George
Today marks day 1 for my writer-in-residence at Necessary Fiction. Throughout the month of October I’ll explore the OTHER things fiction writers do to make us whole. You’ll hear from me about gardening and cooking and baking and music, but you’ll also hear from many other writers on a host of topics. It seemed appropriate,…
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Wrap Up
Wrap up warm, little doves. The end of the month has come. I really just want to take one last, short post to thank everyone who has been involved in this September Girl Lit project: Kristen Stone Kirsty Logan Chris Rice Laura Tansley Hilary Smith Ashley Ford And thank you to all authors who have…
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Literature of the Girl Essay Three: Grief Implosions
A Girl is a Half-Formed Thing by Eimear McBride + I Have Blinded Myself Writing This by Jess Stoner Full disclosure before we begin Since reading I Have Blinded Myself Writing This and reviewing it on PANK, I have been in contact with the author Jess Stoner and follow her on Twitter. However lovely I…
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Genco and Leelee
“Genco and Leelee” – A novel excerpt from Hot Tamale. How many friendships have been forged over the barrel of a gun? It was clear from the very beginning that Genco and Leelee played by their own rules when it came to just about everything. As a couple, they were impossible to resist. Sure, you…
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Girl Lit Eleven: 'The rooms above'
A second excerpt from my ms Kilea today. In this part of the novel, Kilea is ten or so. She is being looked after in the home of her housekeeper, and having behaved well is rewarded with a visit to a previously unseen part of the house, the unused attic space. The housekeeper, Mrs Sabine,…
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Girl Lit Ten: 'The Man From The Circus' by Kirsty Logan
When you were little, did you want to run away and join the circus? Did you want to run away off into the night, scram out across the fields, trailing comets behind you? Come take a stranger’s hand and let the fairy tale, and the charmer (death?) take you beyond the tricks of the everyday,…
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Girl Lit Nine: 'Leave the Bodies Be' by Ashley C. Ford
A piece of creative nonfiction today from Ashley C. Ford. As with everything I’ve read by her – writing, posts on her blog, lengthy discussions on The Female Gaze (to which we both contribute) – when I read this, I couldn’t take my eyes of the page. Read right to the end, a light burning…