Balancing Craft and Business… Sharyn McCrumb, known for her Appalachian “ballad” novels, including The New York Times best sellers The Ballad of Tom Dooley, The Ballad of Frankie Silver, and Ghost Riders will be the keynote speaker at this year’s Virginia Writers’ Club Symposium. The Symposium, “Navigating Your Writing Life: Balancing Craft and Business,” will be held from 8:30 a.m. to 4 p.m., August 1 at Piedmont Virginia Community College in Charlottesville. The Symposium is sponsored by the statewide VA Writers Club (VWC). Named … Continue reading A Balancing Act →
I was a typical child of Depression-era parents—left to fend for myself as long as I didn’t bring unwanted attention to my respectable, Southern family. I, like most of my age group, was what I call a self-rising child. Now we would be called free-range. I can quite clearly remember playing in deep construction culverts right after a big thunderstorm with no adult supervision and absolutely no thought of the way water can flash through channels like that, sweeping everything with it in a deathly way. And I can remember being an early teenager walking … Continue reading Scaffolding: Or How I Learned to Stop Being a Know-It-All and Take Advice from My 20-Something Son by Ginger Moran →
You’re watching a show, and suddenly it happens: the story cuts to a scene of a naked woman about to take a shower. Her breasts — huge and gravity-defying — jiggle and roll as she enters the shower stall, and at some point after she is wet, she presses them against the plate glass door of the shower for added effect. Then, for no apparent reason, the male protagonist in the story enters the bathroom, and comedy ensues as the man, embarrassed at seeing the woman’s bare breasts, somehow trips and falls face-first into her … Continue reading Japan: Your Culture’s Showing →
Temple Age Sycamores phrasal, ashen, strap, bi-chromatic, this cross-hatched, argent patch of woods. Respond with hard answers, please. My season is upon me. Green in there somewhere, yes, even red, if I hash around? Goodbye beauty, I might also say. Depart loveliness, at last. Passing by pallid fields, I confess I dreamed of us. Precarious weeks, these, yet you never want me small. Or parceled. Rather all. Little Song Who dies but once? Evening bears the brunt of incinerated prayer, endless as a tale unsnared by denouement, in closure small as the … Continue reading Temple Age by Lisa Russ Spaar →
I have always thought of myself as being by nature a slow kind of person. I am, and always have been, slow in the morning to awaken to the day and slow in the evening to let go of it, though my habits are changing as I age. Various family members over the years have complained that I drive too slowly. I often seem to be the last one to finish eating (though sometimes I know this is because of eating more, not just more slowly). I am often quiet in group discussions because it … Continue reading The Joys of Slow →
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