Most of my new black friends smoked weed so I did, too. Well, I shouldn’t say that we were friends. They were just the guys who let me follow them around and play dress-up.
A good day writing is like a high tide, full to bursting with the motion of ideas. On those days, I scribble madly, relishing the depths, the fluid grace of words.
After Elmore Leonard died in August at the age of 87, it was hard to avoid one version or another of his Ten Rules for Writing … Just for fun, I’d like to go through a few of these rules and add my two cents.
As a society, we’ve come a long way in our views of mental illness — yet there is still somewhat of a shame, a misunderstanding, a fear towards those who circumvent “normalcy.”
The first decision they make is whether to turn right or left out the front door. Bodie always wants to go left, to the grassy vacant lot that doubles as a park, but he doesn’t make the decisions.
She’d tried tossing other food, but found cupcakes the most satisfying. Lunch meat was too loud, soup was too messy, cereal was anticlimactic, and sliced bread was too easily carried in the wind.
My wife, our two children and I had only driven five hours down I-94, but we were a million miles away from our quixotic blue-state-urban-enclave in Chicago…