Back to the future: A summer of spotting owls

Summer, you were a foe, a smoked piece of flesh of a lover and a fiend, with a fetish for freckles, in tow Mark Twain and Ernest Hemingway made sure I could not romanticize summers while growing up. So vividly beautiful were their descriptions of the crisp summer wind and so deliriously scrumptious their longing to chew... Continue Reading →

5 things a writer can do to avoid getting punched in the face

As a writer, you are probably more self-absorbed than the average person. You find it cumbersome to socialize. You hate confrontations when it is your turn to listen. I am not saying you can be moody too. Just that there are motherless honey badgers in the Kalahari desert with shorter fuses. Only in language have you... Continue Reading →

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