When Talia was three, she got lost in the garden behind the house. She stomped in circles around the same copse looking for a break in the underbrush; there was none. When the moon was full, she howled. Nanny didn't... Read more →


Writer's prompts are magical. There is a section in Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance in which the protagonist is remembering a moment with a college student struggling to write well. I won't get into the philosophical discussion of... Read more →