I was raised on magic. My father always had a book at hand. I grew up with words as close as blankets, as nutritious as carrots or spinach or milk. They were necessary things, inviolate.
Category: Articles
Craft: Finding the Time to Write by Ally Bishop, Reviews Editor
Writing is like any relationship. You have to spend time on it and nurture it in order for it to stay healthy and grow. So it is no wonder that the longer we avoid it, the more terrifying it becomes.
Review: Becoming Jimi Hendrix by Steven Roby and Brad Schrieber
Certain names in twentieth century music will always ring as champions. Born a little too late, I’ve never paid much attention to Jimi Hendrix’s music so when I stumbled across this biography, I decided to correct this wrong.
Review: No Regrets: A Rock ‘n’ Roll Memoir by Ace Frehley
Paul “Ace” Frehley is alive and with no regrets. His rock and roll story is one of interest for musicians, aspiring guitarists and the KISS army— the multitude of fans.
Interview: Chris Charlesworth, music journalist and publisher
Craft: Working on My Rewrite by Risa Nye
Changing titles and endings are just the beginning: spade work. Working on a rewrite requires serious machinery—the type of heavy equipment that allows us to dig deep and plow ahead.
The Writing Life: An Open Letter to My Muse by Hilary Meyerson
As a writer, I often get the question, “Where do you get your ideas?” I also hear it often at book readings when they open up the floor to questions. I love watching other, more famous writers, grind their teeth as they struggle to answer.
The Writing Life: Writing About It by Michael Suppa
It’s the first moment of normalcy in the last four and a half months. Then, I glance at her walker, the portable table, the flowered box holding a mass of medication, and the moment is gone. I’m back at the hospital.
Review: Steve Jobs by Walter Issacson
The Writing Life: Writing from the Sidelines by Lisa Ahn
I finished my first novel when I was forty years old and the shock of it, the rifting amazement, nearly carried me away. The pages hadn’t begun as a Book. I hadn’t intended to be a Writer.