“Crap. Crap. Mega crap.” That’s what I thought when I read my draft three days later. This is what I (re)learned while revising.
My sophomore year of college, I started keeping a journal dedicated entirely to writing and all the pain and frustration that comes with it. Today, I share with you motivational quotes from its pages. Read, contemplate, and then get to work! Just as aliens abduct only people who believe in alien abductions, writers block strikes onlyContinue reading “Motivational quotes, because writing is hard”
Two weeks ago, I attended The Power of Narrative at Boston University, a conference focused on narrative nonfiction. The night before, I noted the sessions I wanted to attend and wrote out objectives. Following are my objectives and the related things I learned while I was there. 1. Make connections I didn’t talk to that manyContinue reading “The Power of Narrative: A recap”
Read last week’s post here or view all other New York City posts. Time is currency. And this week, mine was spent — in research and at work. With it went my energy, so rather than sitting at my desk for three-plus hours, badgering myself to write something worth reading, I present the following: a conglomeration of thoughts,Continue reading “NYC Week Twelve: A conglomeration of thoughts”
Read last week’s post here or view all other New York City posts. “You see that guy?” I said, nodding toward the Indian man who’d just parked his black SUV on the roadside and stepped out to catch the bus my housemate and I had just boarded. “Every day, he speeds up and parks his car, jumps out,Continue reading “NYC Week Nine: Sponge mode”
Read last week’s post here or view all other New York City posts. How do you find stories in a city of eight million? Where the default safety feature is zero eye contact, and you’re more likely to hear a person talking to himself or yelling at someone to “back off” than you are to overhear aContinue reading “Week Three in NYC: City of stories”
Being a nonfiction writer has been my reason for not writing. “I don’t have any assignments,” she says, her voice raising from her throat to her nose. That excuse doesn’t cut it. If I am a writer, it’s because writing is an essential part of my being, it makes me who I am. If IContinue reading “NYC stories: I call myself a writer”
One of the benefits of my summer job (working at Danny’s Main Street Market in Cooperstown, New York) are the random fascinating people who come buy sandwiches. There are conductors who work with the Glimmerglass Opera, construction workers and delivery men, Baseball Hall of Fame employees and interns, and today, Art Spander, an award-winning sports writerContinue reading “When I made Art Spander a sandwich”