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Posts Tagged ‘writing’

For Rooftop’s few enthusiasts, I’m sorry I’ve been so absent from this space. Lately, I’m frazzled and feeling tugged in eight different directions. But, you know what? That’s precisely why I cordoned off this patch of roof: to reflect on (or vent about) whatever seems to be filling my day. So, tugged or not, here I am.  [...]

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So, I recently hinted that some version of my old work blog, Shelf Life, might be rising from the ashes. Well, last night it did. I’ve started reporting on all things local and literary at a new online home. It’d be marvelous if you’d check it out, early and often, for news about Central New York books being published or reviewed, [...]

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Slovenly peace

After I pried my crusty eyes from the computer screen, rose from my chair and clunked down the stairs toward the coffeemaker — fuzzy slippers on my feet, a wake of blue fleece robe trailing behind me, smudged pair of reading glasses sunk into a riot of unwashed curls – I realized something: I’m a walking cliche. Then [...]

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For more than three years, I reported on – and mused about — the local literary community here in town, on a blog associated with my former employer’s Web site. Despite a heavy workload that seemed to increase in heft every day, I never resented the time-consuming responsibility of keeping the blog up and running. It soon became [...]

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I think maybe I need to read some bad writing. For several weeks, I’ve been slowly consuming Lorrie Moore’s A Gate at the Stairs. The pace is by no means a commentary on the quality of the book. A lit class has monopolized some of my reading time, and my own glacial speed takes care of the [...]

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This morning, when I should have plunked myself down at the desk to work on my novella, I instead fired up a video game. (For shame.) Game’s called Luxor 3, and the object of this less-than-cerebral diversion is to hurl colored balls at other colored balls to make them disappear. The game has an Egyptian [...]

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All through my career in newspaper journalism, I kept waiting for someone to reveal me for the fraud I knew I was. No, I never pulled a Stephen Glass or Jayson Blair; I never padded my copy with fabricated details or sources or quotes. And, yes, of course I always strived for Accuracy, Balance, Relevance, Objectivity … [...]

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I’ve had a quote from Anne Lamott tacked to the bulletin board beside my desk for several years now. Never knew quite why. The words resonated inside me somewhere. But today they make more sense than ever before: “When you’re desperate to isolate yourself, cry instead. The world is unbearably sad. But you breathe, have [...]

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I’m not really a mumbo jumbo kind of girl. I don’t generally believe in fairies and fate and metaphysical signs. But, for some reason, I cannot dismiss this coincidence: My deadline for making a life-altering career decision falls on the exact same day that applications are due for an intensive creative writing course in town. [...]

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A desk of one’s own

Clothes don’t make the man. You can’t judge a book by its cover. And a new place to write will not transform my measly words into precious gems. I’m with ya. Couldn’t agree more. But… All my adult life (and maybe even stretching back into my kidlet days), I’ve always coveted a big, old, wooden [...]

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