malcolm gladwell. advice to writers.

Malcolm Gladwell on The Big Think: This I think is true, not just of writers, but of anyone who is in a creative space, that you have to reverse the normal human tendency, which is to edit. So a lot of… and occasionally this is, I think, a source of a great deal of frustration


Try to learn to breathe deeply; really to taste food when you eat, and when you sleep really to sleep. Try as much as possible to be wholly alive with all your might, and when you laugh, laugh like hell. – William Saroyan, Advice to a Young Writer On Christmas Eve I received a parcel

mark twain. the trilogy.

The more things are forbidden, the more popular they become. – Mark Twain There’s a photo of me unwrapping Christmas presents, hands to head, squealing in excitement. I remember being tickled to death at my gifts but if The Euro had not caught it on camera I would have sworn he exaggerated. In addition to

auld lang syne

I’m curled up under the covers feeling sorry for myself because I wont be spending the weekend with Flynn and attending her legendary New Years Eve soiree. I’m tempted to head this post the same as I headed my RSVP but my mother will call and make that clicking noise she makes with her tongue


It was Christmas. I was twenty three, trying to make The Euro jealous and dating a man named Alex. Alex was from Volimes, a village on the island of Zakynthos. He was six years older than me, brain crushingly beautiful and an absolute ass. But he was a fantastic cook when I could only afford

escorting elizabeth edwards

Elizabeth Edwards had been abandoned at a venue by her handlers and needed an escort. One of the event organizers caught me rummaging through the craft service, otherwise idle, and asked if I would be so kind – I certainly would. Edwards didn’t look sixty. Or sick. And more than anything, I remember being taken

dickensian days

Last night I went to Trader Joe’s and brought home a dozen bags of asparagus. And a sausage substitute. I’m having a hard time finding proper British bangers. If anyone knows where I can find a nice Cumberland type, or anything that isn’t seasoned to death, do let me know. Pork may not be the

pinkie brown

Listening to Joy Division and chatting about Sam Riley, the brilliant actor who played Ian Curtis in the 2007 movie “Control” and more recently, Pinkie Brown, in the film adaptation of Graham Greene’s novel Brighton Rock. (Also, Sal Paradise in Jack Kerouac’s On the Road.) If I’ve never gushed over Brighton Rock it’s only because

a little space, you know

Out of the Rolling Ocean, the Crowd by Walt Whitman OUT of the rolling ocean, the crowd, came a drop gently to me, Whispering, I love you, before long I die, I have travel’d a long way, merely to look on you, to touch you, For I could not die till I once look’d on

mother’s druthers

I sometimes think, and most of the time know, if my mother had her druthers she’d live somewhere like this. With enough hill to run up and roll down. And an ocean, just underneath. The house, built in the fifties, is perched on a cliff on Elliðaey (Ellirey), an island south of Iceland’s mainland. Rumor

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