Catalog of Lies
Essay
“But if you see it with your own eyes, then of course it’s real,” you protested as a teenager. This was before home computers, before Photoshop, before “fake news” and “deepfakes.” This was back when you thought facts were unmalleable. Now, you wonder what happens when you can [read more]
The Benefits of Not Knowing Your Audience
Essay
Knowing your audience is a very tall order. If this were an article about craft, I’d tell you what advice I abide by and what I ignore. However, this is about getting creatively unblocked. So, I’ll tell you: ignore all of it. There are benefits to not knowing your [read more]
Fear & Ammunition : Reflections on the 20th Anniversary of 9/11
Essay
“I was not supposed to be in Manhattan that day, but I was. I remember fighter jets patrolling the air space over New York City, the enormous, frightening, rumbling wake from the jets sounding like another building toppling nearby. I had the impulse to duck whenever I [read more]
“The Distraction of Conscience”
Essay
“What if the change that’s needed is not global in scope, but personal: If I am Narcissus, how do I stop distracting my own conscience?”
“This Could Be Anywhere, I Could Be Anyone”
Fiction
“I leave the store after a small, middle-aged domestic thrill: A good deal on bathroom rugs ($14.99 for two). As soon as I walk across the parking lot to my car, I know I’ll return them tomorrow. I don’t need them, but I need something.”
“Small Offerings”
“In 1995, I was living in a tent in the southern Appalachians trying to stay sober. I was twenty-eight years old, working at a camp for the summer, keeping notes of it all. During the day, I lifeguarded by a lake, teaching young girls how to [read more]
“The Metronome”
“The wife drank beer every night while her husband played his saxophone. He stood in the kitchen near an uncurtained window, pale and thin in his underwear, and blew his sax toward the refrigerator as if he were playing to a packed crowd, the [read more]
“Containers”
“Dad is dying. He shuffles around his kitchen with a plastic tube coming out of his stomach. It’s connected to a clear bag that hangs from the waistline of his pants. The tube is filled with bubbles of partially digested food that move as slow [read more]
“The Reunion”
Baltimore STYLE Magazine, online
“Brenda talks to the mirror. “Why, yes. I’m a floral designer,” she says to an imaginary acquaintance. “I create arrangements for some of the most high profile weddings in town.” This is only partially true, but it makes her feel good to say it.”
“Lawrence Loves Somebody on Pratt Street”
[PANK] blog, Beautiful Ashes series
“When I come to the door, Aunt Gloria’s got her rosary in one hand, thumbing through it like she’s shelling beans. She says she saw it on the T.V. about Lawrence’s unit. “They been hit over there in that big sand pit,” she [read more]
“Injured”
Sententia 4
“They said, “We understand your concern. We want to help if we can, but don’t call us unless it’s an emergency. Psychotic episodes are normal,” they said. “They’re not emergencies. Your husband might start drinking too much. Don’t call us about that either. Don’t call us unless he wakes [read more]
“The Black Male Identity Project”
“I Am A Black Man. That’s what’s printed in big white letters across my chest. Except, I’m not black. I’m not even a man. I’m a white woman wearing a t-shirt in support of the Black Male Identity Project. (Full disclosure: I’m the Administrator of [read more]
“My Life As A Mermaid”
“I get another letter from my sister who is in Honduras riding mules and skidding around the muddy mountain roads in a pick-up truck. The roads have curves sharp enough to tempt death, sharp enough to see yourself leaving. When the priest drives, she writes, [read more]
“What Girls Leave Behind”
“How did the rubber band bracelet snap? I don’t remember, but I can picture it in my head. Hear it. All the confusion, a swirl, a smash. Noisy girls running in my apartment, my daughters on visitation. Afterwards, a string of things left behind: purple socks [read more]
“End of August”
“We were alone together at the pool swimming and resting in the sun. It was the slow end of August. The leaves were dark green, the sun running out. We hadn’t seen each other for many months though we had been in love once. That [read more]
“All That is Seen and Unseen: Negative Space in Fiction”
“When I was a figure model years ago, the artists preferred me to pose in ways that created angles, opportunities for shadow and light. Maybe I’d place a hand on my hip to form a triangle between my arm and my body, or draw my [read more]
“O.K., Goodbye”
Indiana Review
“Let’s say the first time she tries to walk out she loses her car keys in the front yard at night. She’s sassy, maybe a little drunk. She tosses her keys in the air but misses them on their way back down. The next thing she knows, she and [read more]
“Halloween Don’ts”
Baltimore Fishbowl, October 27, 2013
Some of my scariest fashion faux pas have happened on Halloween night.
Dracula is standing on my neighbors’ front porch. He’s been there for the last few weeks staring past their Ravens flag, past their excitable Jack Russell terriers, past their chain link fence [read more]
“How Michael Phelps and I Are Nearly the Same”
Baltimore Fishbowl, August 8, 2012
Michael Phelps’s history-making races were exciting to watch, but all his success is taking a toll on my self-esteem. It’s dangerous when you are having a mid-life crisis to compare yourself to others, to Michael Phelps, for instance, or to Olympians in general. [read more]