It’s The Company You Keep

I used to hang around a bunch of poets. Not because I liked them—they were snobbish in their elegiac greatness—but because as poets, they were guaranteed to get rejected more often than I. My novel was dead in the water while…

The (Full) Writing Life

Go Figure: Musings from the Mind of Rob Wilstein My mother was on the phone. The old black desk model with its rotary dial. She was writing with one hand, the receiver clenched between shoulder and ear, the coiled cord…