Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

Why Rome (part 4)

Posted: June 30, 2019 in Uncategorized

There are five Saturdays in June.

As this post goes live, I’ll be finishing up packing. For me, there is a ritual for it. There is a backpack that I salvaged from an old job, that has been with me everywhere — from my first trip to DC almost a decade ago — and will be coming with me. There is the addition of a black roller bag that joined me on last year’s journey to Galway, Ireland. I wish I didn’t need it. But a month is too long with only a few changes of clothes.

The clothes get rolled. The electronics go in a bag, that go into their pocket. My stainless steel water bottle, which has sat forlornly next to my sink for months, will go in it’s place. The day backpack has a home, the laptop, the iPad, the headphones, the chargers. I have a jacket that I got for my first trip to the United Kingdom that I do not know if I will take — I love it, but it is heavy. Perhaps too heavy for the Mediterranean. There is my grey baseball cap, a replacement for the first one lost in Ireland. I hope it will be better broken in.

Leave taking is sacred, and I think and dream and pray as each item goes in its place. It feels like a mantra made with my hands, letting the world go, pulling silence in with each inhale.

Why Rome?

I went to Ireland for the first time as part of a program through my graduate program. They spend a week in a suburb of Dublin called Howth, in a bed and breakfast overlooking the sea. I went, because carpe diem, and why not? My life fell apart somewhere during that trip. I lost my job of nine years as I sat in a hostel in Sligo after climbing a mountain. After…

On the road to hell was a railroad line..

I left Howth earlier than planned, sharing a taxi with my new friend Maxene. We were going different directions, but when I hopped out of Connolly Station, I booked an earlier train to Belfast than planned. There was a cover band playing at the station singing Journey songs. I took the earlier train north to Belfast. Because one of my favorite Elton John songs sang about it, and as a teenager growing up in the woods of New Hamsphire, it had spoken to me.

Scrolling through social media, I started chatting with a guy who liked lasagna. I told him we should hang out, I was only in town for a couple of days. That it would change his life.

And in a lot of ways, that weekend with Hugh, in fact, changed my life. In the way of all travelers, I thought I was in love with him. And in the way of all such experiences, it never really existed outside of a time and a place. There’s that idea again — that some things can only exist at a certain time, in a certain place. But what it did took a long time to understand.

Hugh was the first person I’d met outside of my teenage years that I felt like the idea of “forever” could be possible, that I *wanted* it to be possible. A new idea, me? The world changed since then. I’ve changed since then. But that weekend set up goal posts for the last few years.

Galway was Hugh’s favorite city in Ireland. I wanted to know why. I spent a month there last summer. We talked about Rome and how beautiful it was, and i’ll spend a month there this summer, walking along the Tiber, thinking about the stories we tell — and live — we need to live our stories as well — at a certain place, in a certain time.

It’s important to be clear that I’m not in love with a guy I met on a long weekend two years ago. But what seemed possible before Belfast and what seems possible after Belfast are drastically different. It is as much a watershed moment in my life as that night on the bridge in the dark. I’m seeing a great guy, who makes me laugh. He’s carting me to the airport and watching my cat while I’m gone. But this relationship is only possible because of those places, those times that have led me here.

So, as I prepare to go, as I prepare to leave and think and dream again, i’ll be thinking of these things, pulling in on my thoughts of past times where I’ve left what I know for something that I need to learn, new places to make my own. And that feels right, and proper.

Why Rome (Part 3)

Posted: June 16, 2019 in Uncategorized

I watched the Julia Roberts film Eat Pray Love when it came out. The book (which I read for the first time about a month ago) is pretty solid as well. I particularly like how the author talks about the experiences of travel and how they match (or don’t) her expectations. That said, I want to go to Rome because there’s a scene where Roberts is in the Mausoleum of Augustus and it’s sort of a ruin and unbearably quiet.

The place has been refurbished in the last few years and opened in April as a more traditional museum experience. I’m excited to check it out, though I do wonder a bit at the majesty of faded glory.

That said, what you really want to know if what i’m doing in Italy. At least a little. I’ve rented an apartment in the Trastevere neighborhood in Rome. Initially, this was because I’d intended to take a “Writing in Rome” class through the American University of Rome, but the class schedule didnt line up with my travel dates, so i’m going solo.

Also included is a long weekend to Venice. Second , I’ll be heading to Sorrento. Sorrento will be a home base for a couple of day trips down the boot of Italy, and a boat trip (because I can’t manage to not get on a boat) to Capri. I’ll stop in at Pompeii and possibly Herculaneum on my way back to Rome.

Not pictured is the notebook i’m building of places I want to go — lots of ruins and markets, as well as thoughts as they pass by. Looking forward to getting this trip underway.

But as of this posting, I am in New York City. School let out yesterday and I’ve treated myself to see my favorite Broadway show: Hadestown. For the third time since March. I saw it opening night for previews, and again with Casey during it’s official opening week, and here we are again.

Why Rome (Part 2)

Posted: June 9, 2019 in Uncategorized

Think about where you are right now, reading this.

Think about where you are in relation to everything: are you at work? At home? In your office? Driving (don’t read blog posts while you’re driving) to or from something? All of these are places, intersecting. Think about where you are in your life — did you just start a relationship, leave a job, get good news? Are you sleepy? These are places. We could argue (and i’m inclined to) that each of these locations are places where we intersect. They’re rhetorical spaces.

A year ago, I sat on the Cog Railway and climbed Mount Washington (in the train, I didn’t hike. No way). The year before, I was with my cousin exploring the final resting places of some of my ancestors. Before that, I was on the Isle of Skye. Before that I was in the Endless Mountains of Pennsylvania (and also exploring final resting places). Before that was, I think, the depressed failure of my aborted trip to New Orleans. Why do I know what I was doing on this day over the years? Because it’s my birthday today. Which is a place that I remember, a time that I remember. This post will go live at 1:23pm, the time I was born.

A year ago April, I went to the University of Washington’s Whiteley Center in Friday Harbor, Washington. I spent a week with an office overlooking the water, writing. I wrote a series of essays about my life: my parents, my job, the people I worked with. They’re pieces of writing i’d started over the years, but never finished. Could never seem to finish. It wasn’t until I changed the place I was in, that the words came. It took space and perspective to understand the shape of the story I wanted to tell.

This theme of space and place and writing is the goal of my time in Italy. I want to explore how they intersect. Some of this will feed into a section of Composition i’ll be teaching in the Fall. More will be, I hope the subject of my dissertation, as I apply for Plymouth State’s EdD program beginning next summer.

But like all research, and all writing, it feels like a set of notes that will become a melody, will become verses, will become something larger.

I’ve begun a reading list (some of which I’ve begun, some of which is To Be Read) that I’m hoping starts stringing things together. I would be delighted if folks had additional thoughts or things to read.

  • Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert
  • Underground: A Human History of the Worlds Beneath our Feet by Will Hunt
  • A Field Guide to Getting Lost by Rebecca Solnit
  • The Old Ways: A Journey on Foot by Robert MacFarlane
  • Rome: A Cultural, Visual, and Personal History by Robert Hughes
  • Why They Can’t Write by John Warner
  • Hollowing out the Middle by Patrick J. Carr

It’s hard to know what soup will be built out of these ingredients and the ingredients that will be added later. But it’s interesting to think about.

Why Rome (Part 1)

Posted: June 1, 2019 in Uncategorized

A month from today, I’ll be disembarking a plane at Rome’s Fiumicino Airport. I’ll spend a month in Italy with the generous support of a grant by the Marion and Jasper Whiting Foundation. My purpose (which will be the subject of another “Why Rome” post) is to consider the idea of place as it relates to teaching, writing, and the stories we tell. The trip includes a few days in Venice, and several days exploring the Amalfi Coast — all with the idea of expanding my mind, pedagogy, and perhaps get some of my own writing done (which will also be the subject of another “Why Rome” post).

So, why Rome? Why Italy?

Folks who know me personally are aware of my frequent travels. On a personal level, travelling feels much like praying. Being alone, without the attachments that link us to each other (professional expectations, personal relationships, social media, etc.) feels like a weight is lifted from inside me. I see the world differently, and see a different world.

When I was a student at Plymouth State University, there was a green iron bridge that crossed across the Pemigewasset River. In my late-night ramblings, I’d cross the river, get a soda at the gas stations, and head back to my dorm room. The bridge itself was worn down, and was replaced by the time I graduated. It shook when cars crossed it, and the wooden slats that made up the pedestrian walkway had a path carved down the middle, from the feet of many, many students. Walking across it at night felt like I was taking my life in my hands.

One night I was walking across the bridge, and about half-way across the walkway was a lump. At first, I thought it was a dog, and then thought it was a bag of garbage, carelessly left. It turned out to be a girl, about my age. She was sitting across the path, legs dangling over the edge, looking up.

I like to think that I asked her if she was okay, or if she needed help. But I might have mumbled something and tried to edge past her. Remember: the bridge shook every time a car went by, and the boards were comfortably three inches thinner in the middle than the sides, and the ever-growing gaps between them proved that there was nothing else between me and the river but air.

She asked me if I wanted to join her. She had a harmonica, and the stars were out. Because I was 19-or-so I politely said perhaps another time, and tried to skirt past her. Her response is something that’s stuck with me across hours in a car, in a boat, in planes, and on my own two feet: “people always say that, but they never really do, because there isn’t always a next time.”

I mean, it’s a fair assessment.

I wound up sitting next to her while she played her harmonica, dangling my feet over the side of the bridge, looking at the stars. We walked down the railroad tracks in the dark, looked at the river-flooded trees, and then, ultimately, moved on.

I never caught her name. I think I saw her again across campus at one point, but I don’t remember clearly. It was (what feel like) a long time ago.

My life has been made up (as everyone’s has, if we’re being honest) by the choices they make, and the diem they carpe. I think of watershed moments in my life like this; equally by the opportunities i’ve had, and the opportunities i’ve passed on, or not gotten. They became places where my life drastically took a turn I wasn’t expecting. Or stayed a course when I could have diverted.

  • A friend asked me to be in a play at UMass Boston and paid for my gas. I commuted to UMB for a month three days a week to be in The Bakkhai. A friend I made in that production was instrumental in helping me finish my soon-to-be-published novel.
  • I was offered a job in AmeriCorps in Fairbanks, Alaska, working with people recently released from jail. The recruiter discussed how the company provided housing in a dry cabin (the link goes to a nice little article that summarizes my feelings of horror) and the periodic attention of the neighborhood polar bears. For $15k a year. I declined.
  • Joining USM’s Stonecoast program to Howth, Ireland for a writing retreat. This is, in a lot of places, the time where my life fell apart and has been radically transformed. I think about a night on Howth Harbor, watching the black sea, hearing the ring of ships in the night. The intersection of that trip to Ireland and this trip to Italy will be the

This is all to say that Rome comes from a series of decisions. I set my ship heading that way about a year ago, deciding that I wanted to spend a solid amount of time in Rome, because, as they say, all roads lead there.

What I’m doing there, and perhaps some more thoughts on the “why” question will continue.

Happy to share that my short story, “Pumpkin and Glass” is available to read for free at Diabolical Plots:

This story began as a response to a Humans of New York article that broke my heart. It also features one of my favorite dogs (except Gus is a boy in real life, not Pumpkin). I hope you enjoy!

Tide Child

Posted: August 4, 2018 in Uncategorized


Happy to share that my short story, “Tide Child” is available through On Spec. You can follow the link here:

“Tide Child” is one of those stories that I can track the genesis of pretty easily. It started with this article:

And my brain got to thinking — what if it wasn’t a seal? What if it was a Selkie? For those who dont know, in myth, they’re shape shifters who trade human form for seal form by using a seal skin. Legend says that a man who steals a selkie’s fur can take the selkie as their wife. But if the selkie ever finds the fur, she’ll return to the sea forever.

Singer Heather Dale has a great song, “The Maiden and the Selkie” which I have listened to on repeat for years, since hearing it in person. This one expands the story, talking about how a male selkie cannot survive on shore.

Throw in one more idea, Talis Kimberly’s “Still Catch the Tide” as performed by Seanan McGuire. You can check it out here:

Thus, you have a story about an almost-man who lives on the shore with his father, and the secrets that he doesnt want to know. Because when you know your father’s secrets, you need to become a man. Happy reading.

Very happy to share that the 5×5 Anthology is now out and available for Amazon. Check out that cover! You can find it online HERE


Reading 5X5: Readers' Edition by [Allen, B. Morris, Stenhouse, Meryl, Warner, Caleb, Chan, L., North, T.R., Fogg, Vanessa, Hamilton, Paul A., Robinson, Sean,  Kemp, Juliet, Anderson, K. G., Ross, James, Goder, Beth, Thompson, Matt, J. Willis, Suzanne, Earl, Chanel, Acs, Y. X., Wiltgren, Filip, Brazos, Rhoads, Rennie, Ian, Hammond, David, Krsteski, Damien, Yates, Pauline, Dandenell, Karl, Hamilton, Paul A., Robinson, Sean R., Leibowitz, Sandi, Francis, Rob, Fedyk, Karolina]

This project was really unique to work with. 5 group of 5 writers (so 25 writers in total) created stories. Each group was assigned a genre and created stories off of a shared outline. I developed the outline for the High Fantasy group. In reading through the entire anthology, it’s amazing to see the different approaches folks took, and how they are similar and different.

My story is called “Child of Flowers”. In it, Berai Rosewarden is about to come into her own as the heir of the city of Velinar. Except, she’s not sure she’s ready to commit to that. Because power and responsibility go hand-in-hand. She’s also not sure she’s the princess everyone wants her to be.

“Child of Flowers” shares a milieu with two other stories i’ve published: “Scander and the Red Briar Prince” which came out through Red Rose Review and “Madder Root and Rampion” which came out in Betwixt. Folks who also saw my story “Cala Lily and Celadon” in the Art and Words Show would see some similarities.

In all, for $5 on Kindle, this book is worth the money. Proceeds go to charity, and there are a lot of great stories in it. Happy reading!