Where I Write #29: Ten Werecantos
We think of our brains as a place. We surround thoughts with metaphors of environment.
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Where I Write
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Weekend Rumpus Roundup
On this warm weekend we are favored with a cool breath of fresh air from the likes of Matthew Lippman, via Michael Klein’s review of Lippman’s poetry collection, American Chew.…
Where I Write #28: A Small Bench Between Two 25-Story Buildings
I was doing clerical work for a magazine publisher in a high-rise along the Wilshire corridor and each day I would take my one hour lunch on a small bench between two 25 story buildings. The proximity of all these tall structures created a vortex of wind that constantly combed through all these magnificent trees. One by one I had to know and then write about each individual Jacaranda, Magnolia and Floss Silk tree.
Where I Write #27: Now In Silence, Mute
Now in silence, mute, a place still quiet/within reason, ear-protected, I hear/the flow and pump of blood.
Where I Write #26: Where The Rocks Gather
I write from that burning body. Four years old or seven years old or ten years old. Crawling out from under a fire.
WHERE I WRITE #25: The Wild Pendulum
Here I am, seven years later, a “full-time writer.” I spend about half my time locked up in my apartment in the West End of Providence, Rhode Island, hunched over my laptop.
Where I Write #24: I Don’t Know Where I Write
There’s a window, but no tree. Just the next building, identical blinds. I’ve done a fair amount of writing here, I guess. Assembled at least one book. But again, I can’t picture it, can’t imagine being comfortable in this space. When I write at home, I know I don’t have long. Something will intrude or distract.
Where I Write #23: The House My Mother Built
That’s what I want to do as I write: break through the varnish my mom helped me shellack over my truth, the stains we both used to deny our imperfections, hide our dark places.
Where I Write #22: A Room of One’s Own in the Middle of Everything
I’m writing on the bathroom floor, laptop on my knees. It’s tight in here; shower, toilet, and sink crammed together with just enough space left to stand, or in my…
WHERE I WRITE #21: On the Edge of Sky and Sea
In the dark streets of Lhasa two summers ago, I bought a bracelet stringed with smooth skulls and wear it now habitually.
WHERE I WRITE #20: Towers Diner
Author and artist Cassie J. Sneider dishes about her favorite writing spot:
WHERE I WRITE #19: With Love From My Desk From A Dumpster
I write at a desk two gay men helped me pull from a dumpster and load in my truck. The legs are bruised, and its paint’s coming off.