When insomnia provokes my wife or I to walk the footprint of our house, we sometimes end up at our bookroom. Bookroom is an idiosyncratic idiom of our family as my grandparents used the term, logically enough, for their room filled with books. When I was a kid it was the quiet room (Shssssh) with glass-doored cases, walls of tooled leather, slag glass lamps, and ‘oriental’ rugs. Our bookroom is not so different, though let’s substitute open shelves that, aggravatingly, are un-adjustable, walls of pine paneling, bright LED lights with inexpensive shades, and bare board … Continue reading Library Skulls by Fred Wilbur →
I’m not surprised that I adore copy editing Streetlight Magazine. It’s a wonderful marriage between my slightly obsessive-compulsive tendencies and my love of reading. Perusing numerous pieces of writing while searching for extra spaces, improper italicization and the incorrect use of dashes is something I could do all day long. While I admit I get irrationally excited every time I find something to fix (especially since it doesn’t happen that often), my favorite part of the job is that I’m reading from varied genres. As an English major I spent my share of time … Continue reading The Path Home →
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