I have a personal essay up this week on Three Guys, One Book about how and when I fell in love—with reading. My essay focuses on who provided me with the books: my late grandpa, who died when I was 8, of esophageal cancer. He was only 52. Even though I didn’t get to spend more than those 8 years with him, he guided and influenced my life so much, most notably because he would bring me books with torn-off covers that he rescued from being pulverized or incinerated at a publishing company in Milwaukee.
Read MoreI write nothing about those two terms in this blog post, but I use them both.
Read MoreOops, I forgot to blog last week!
Read MoreThe weather is not warming up yet here in Wisconsin, and I’m taking advantage of the inhospitable wind, continuing cold, and my lack of social life to write—a lot. I’m also not drinking alcohol for the month of April, and as of today, I’ve made it one-third of the way through!
Read MoreI survived my first Association of Writers & Writing Programs (AWP) conference.
Read MoreI never planned to be a bike messenger.
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