Everybody has a trick for entering their writing. They light candles, turn on Mozart, twirl three times counterclockwise. Me, I cook. This is new. And it isn’t the cooking, really, it’s the smell. Seems I need the simmering of onions…
On this past Solstice eve, instead of celebrating by the fire with friends, I went to Lahey hospital for a last minute MRI, to rule out something an ultrasound had picked up. The details of that true story don’t matter,…
It’s hard to start to write. No matter the number of chapters or scenes or even emails I’ve written, when I have a blank page in front of me, I stop in my tracks. I see half a dozen different…