On Miranda July, Workshop Slams, and the Novel of My Dreams

I am reading the stories of Miranda July. Last week I saw her movie. It was an odd film; I liked it so very much. But back to the stories. They’re absurd. Raucous. Very brief, perfectly brief. They’re odd, and yes, you guessed it, I like them very much. Elizabeth at Fluent mentioned this: theyContinue reading “On Miranda July, Workshop Slams, and the Novel of My Dreams”

Elevator Confessions

I arrived at my weekend writing spot late this afternoon. No makeup. Messy hair, roots in desperate need of getting done. Enormous backpack housing laptop, script pages for current freelance adaptation, book for other freelance adaptation, notebook for notes, magazine for procrastination, big bottle of water. I will get a lot done tonight, I vowed.Continue reading “Elevator Confessions”