What happens when our relationships drive our art

I’d never met him before, and he’d made me cry. What was it like to be Kazuo Ishiguro, I wondered, and to know that, at any moment, you could encounter a stranger whom you’d made cry? I guess, as with anything: strange at first, and then gradually less strange. He was reading at a synagogueContinue reading “What happens when our relationships drive our art”

What no one tells you about writing…about yourself

It was my second year of an M.F.A. program in creative writing. I was enrolled in a creative nonfiction course. “Think of the ‘I’ of now,” we were told, “and the ‘I’ of then.” Most people likely haven’t heard of this concept. I had not either. In short: the ‘I’ (or eye) of now—your presentContinue reading “What no one tells you about writing…about yourself”

On Shyness and Writing

Image source I am twenty-eight, and sometimes, walking down a sidewalk, I still find a point in the far distance and make that my friend, and everything–everyone–goes to watercolors at the periphery. I am a writer. I am shy. They seem almost canonically opposed: to be shy is to be fearful; to write is toContinue reading “On Shyness and Writing”