If you write for everybody you write for no one, so this will be for you.
I spent the past three days at Holy Ghost Campground in the Pecos mountains, hiking with Preston and Laurel and Francis and Pink and talking and not talking about Christianity and weddings and crowd surfing and disappointment and universes expanding and the collapsing of dreams and the black...
We watched The Wool Cap — William H Macy — and marveled from the cave that you converted into a bedroom in the garage.
I remember the night a spider crawled onto your hand from the inside of your guitar, and you threw it against the wall so hard that it knocked your mother’s...
The next morning, Jayber Crow was trimming hair and
eavesdropping on my mind.
I let the world know
(as it is not as though
the world knows how to keep to itself) —
Taos Valley in the background,
tin-can-coffee strategically placed —
and Matt commented on my story to say:
”Now THAT is a...
I've been working on — not exactly a book pitch — but an accumulation of ideas for a potential book. One of the things that I've had to do during that process is an audience analysis.
Like, who are you people and what do you come to my writing for?
I wrote down some of my own...
My Superman underwear were red, naturally. (I'll get back to that.)
This morning, I taught a poetry class for Harlingen High School, small town Texas, and let the students know that fame is overrated (not that I've ever been famous, but... I'll get back to that).
The point was: coming up,...