I’ve been thinking a lot about beginnings lately.

Apparently I’m not the only one.

“Now then, let us begin. When we are at the end of the story, we shall know more than we know now: but to begin.” From “The Snow Queen” by Hans Christian Andersen

“We begin with the trouble, but where does the trouble begin? My uncle takes a pistol and blows his brains out.” From “The Question of Where We Begin” by Kyle Minor

“The day my mom checked out, Razor Blade Baby moved in. At the end, I can’t stop thinking about beginnings.” From “Ghosts, Cowboys,” in the collection Battleborn, by Clare Vaye Watkins.

I was thinking about beginnings with the last short story I wrote, and I’m thinking about them now, beginning a novel again and again, sometimes only in my head, and sometimes on paper. Mostly not on paper, though. “But to begin,” says Hans Christian Andersen. “But to begin. . .”




One book following on another

Reading two books back to back.

“. . . because stories are how we shape our lives, and stories make pain tolerable by acknowledging it as part of a meaningful journey.”
–Beth Ann Fennelly, Great with Child, p. 202

“Because my life had no shape, I was willing to accept whatever happened.”
–Ann Patchett, Truth & Beauty, p. 6

Hatchet in PANK 9

I’m way behind with this update, but I have a little piece, “Hatchet,” appearing in PANK 9, a gorgeous print issue that came out in fall 2013.