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A Spell of Remembering, Woven in Eight Leaves
Note: The essay below is reprinted from my e-book, Nowhere Slow. Though I might word it differently now, I haven’t changed it. A Spell of Remembering, Written in Eight Leaves The first leaf makes everything smooth The flower of the likehdou blends from sunset purple at the edges to a deep bruised color in…
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What’s My Lane?
This morning, I read a great, instructive Twitter thread by @writingtheother about white authors writing BIPOC characters. FWIW, a few stray thoughts: I’m sympathetic to the argument that artists should be able to write, draw, sing, sculpt any old thing they want to, the only limit being their desire to do so. This doesn’t mean…