Every square inch of a very large desk is covered with paper. Stacks and stacks of paper, but so orderly, so neat. Each stack tidy as a brick, the relevant context and content of my life organized by brute force... Read more →

Yelena stared at the wall and nurtured her rage. Om Shanti, Om Shanti, Shanti, Shanti, Shanti, Om... fifteen minutes every day. She refused to cut her hair, but clipped her nails to the quick. She was ordered to the shower... Read more →

I think all married people do this; at least that's what I tell myself. No matter how hard we try, we lose bits of ourselves over time. Commitment is a horribly abused word. As with the word, literally, it rarely... Read more →

Elizabeth was six the year Lucia turned sixteen, and Florida was a furnace in August. Lucia asked only for the Magic Kingdom and given the year she'd had, we sucked it up. She chose the book bonking best friend as... Read more →

This story has been told, but the truth about stories is they're never told the same way twice. It's August, 2015 and Elizabeth is dancing with FAB at DANY Studios down on 38th, somewhere between 8th and 9th. She didn't... Read more →

On December 23, 2000, Elizabeth attended her first black tie event in the middle of a snow storm that left three feet on the ground before dawn. This was her third corporate event; the first, a heated discussion with Human... 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 →