Some poetic prose.
Some prose poetry.
The other day, my son hit a major milestone, though it might not be marked in most kids’ baby books: he made a friend at the mall play area.
Who is this guy? What’s his story? What about these kids glaring at him? Who might they be? What city is this? Where are they going?
Write it out, y’all.
This week/weekend, every other photo on my Facebook feed is of some happy writer or writers in a convention center or hotel, lanyards around their necks, books in hand. People are posting their schedules, thisclose to bragging about what panels they get to attend and readings they get to hear. Name dropping abounds. Selfies with chapbooks, lit journals, tables full of indie press story collections. Everyone’s in Tampa and it’s like friggin’ spring break, apparently.
No idea what I’m talking about?
This weekend is AWP. Continue reading “Things to Do While Everyone Else is at AWP”