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A story for Sunday . . . .
A story to ponder on a Sunday afternoon busy with holiday preparations. Take a break. Sit down and watch; it’s short — have a cup of tea why don’t you? Listen to the words, to the lovely melody....
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Christmas Kindness: a Story
Image futzed with using a photo by JWP. Like the best stories, this one begins, once upon a time . . . . There was a father, a mother, and a baby boy who was born in the dead of winter on a very cold...
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End-of-year salmagundi . . . .
The picture has nothing to do with the post, but I like the insouciance of the little bird eating off the plate. I’m also a painter who doesn’t paint anymore because of the chemicals, and I like that I...
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My man, Wilkie . . . .
It may be possible in novel-writing to present characters successfully without telling a story; but it is not possible to tell a story successfully without presenting characters....
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The boy who wanted to be a stunt man.
We noticed when he began throwing himself down the stairs. “What are you doing, trying to kill yourself?” “No,” he said. “I’m practicing to be a stunt man.” Sometimes he’d start at the top of the...
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This one’s for Puck
Right up front, I will tell you that this story is true. I should also warn you that it’s a little bitter-sweet. When my brother Peter came into our lives my parents already had three girls. They...
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Collecting details: In the bleak midwinter
Observing, collecting details as “glimmers of a beginning.” A way of finding a story to tell. That was the challenge this week. Somewhere outside my window a machine hums incessantly for the second...
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