Her piece "A Message About Messages" offers a pointed and humorous rebuttal (of which only Le Guin was capable of) to those who insist on strangling messages out of the fiction they read
Evening and huzzah, goda människor, from a basement out here in central Minnesota. I hope this missive finds you all safe, sound, hearty, and hale. Nearly bedtime around these parts, but I wanted to hop and post something before hitting the rack.
The first day of February delivered warmer weather with the sun sticking around long enough to melt some of the snow build-up. After settling a bellyful of pancakes and coffee, we ventured out to brave the perils of Saturday Costco. The town of Anoka lies on the way to the bastion of bulk food shopping, and in this town (self-proclaimed Halloween capital of the world) is The Swedish Crown Bakery
It's been a week since Halloween, a week since the end of October, a week since the culmination of Short As Fictober, my self-imposed, month-long writing journey. I haven't written much of anything since then, but I have had a moment to reflect on the experience and make a plan of sorts.
Writing is a strange and giant beast, that I sometimes lose sight of the simple fact that it's supposed to be fun. I'm looking forward to what kinds of stories will happen over the next 31 days. Who's with me?
Because my car up and died shortly after moving to the Pacific Northwest, I'd ride my bike to and from work, which generally meant a commute home around one o'clock in the morning. On the ride, Berman's musical vehicle, The Silver Jews, would keep me company in my headphones.
Stålenhag is a Swedish visual artist, writer, musician, and tabletop RPG designer, and it seems as though he's been churning out his creative projects for a number of years. As with much of the cool art that's out there*, I'm only learning about it now, hence the whole "late to dinner" phrase in the title.
In the preface to his essay collection, Zen in the Art of Writing, Ray Bradbury writes "And what, you ask, does writing teach us? First and foremost, it reminds us that we are alive and that it is a gift and a privilege, not a right. We must earn life once it has be awarded us. Life asks for rewards back because it has favored us with animation" (xii).
I like to think about writing while I walk, and it's while thinking about writing that I try to get my writing done. In fact, it's where most of my writing's getting done these days.
Barstow and Grand, the Chippewa Valley's premier literary journal, is currently accepting submissions for its third issue. What kind of stuff is B & G looking for? Poetry, creative non-fiction, fiction, and even hybrids of the genres.