
David Olimpio’s This Is Not a Confession (Awst Press, 2016) is at turns eloquently self-conscious, wry, and lyrical.

It is clearly betrayal, indeed bodily insubordination, these hands that type “writhing” when my brain means “writing.” Even so, getting fingers-to-keys has gotten easier through the years, and the best writing advice I’ve ever received was modeled for me in the heat of the moment, two decades ago: “I need to let my subconscious work…

I had a rather strange experience last week where, in the span of one day, three separate people recommended Elizabeth Gilbert’s latest book to me. It wasn’t even a suggested reading type recommendation. It was a “stare deep in someone’s eyes and whisper, you have to read this book” type recommendation. I was hesitant because…