(Note: This rant was originally inspired [or should I say, rekindled] by this Grub Street blog post by Suzahn Ebrahimian.) It was frustrating when I first got into more “serious” fiction writing, for I was a good little student. I…
I was floundering in the Murky Middle of my novel. You know that place—the one that happens after you’ve sent your hero off to find her heart’s desire, but before she actually gets it. Right, that place—the big, awful middle…
When a poet writes a novel the moon coils up into a copper-headed snake and hisses secrets. The horizon line bends like a cello string after the sun nods off into the thinning green sea to sleep. When a poet…
My Novel Incubator instructors loved to tell us to kill our characters. Most of us came into class with drafts bloated with characters who served no purpose, so it was sound advice. During revision, I created a giant diagram of all…
You’ve finessed an invitation to your crush’s house. It wasn’t hard. Your best friend (is she your best friend, do you have a best friend?) was invited, she mentioned it, and now you’re going too. Not difficult. Choosing what to…
One of the only things I miss about my nine-to-five job is all the reading I got done riding on the T. There’s something magical about reading while commuting and it’s not surprising that programs, like Boston’s Books on the T,…