Thrilled to be Interviewed by Queen of Flash Kathy Fish over at Flash Fiction Chronicles. We chat about writing small stories and the genesis of my story AFTER THE TSUNAMI, upcoming at Every Day Fiction.
Thank you Kathy for the provocative questions! Peace...
I am trying hard not to let what happened in Boston sink me deeper,
sink me to the point where I give up on the goodness of the world. On the
inherent goodness of people. This latest attack on people (I won’t call them
innocents—aren’t all of us innocent to some degree?) makes me want to flee. But
to where? Is there a safer place to live? A saner place?
I know that the horror I felt on Monday night, watching the news
unfold, will fade. The images will blur around the edges, the facts become
murky, the way a pond darkens as autumn leaves fall on its surface, then sink,
rotting, to the bottom.
After all, what can I recall of Newtown?
I have hardened. I don’t like this quality, but I think it is part of
human hardwiring, part of the armor which lets us survive. It is how we humans
are evolving. In 100 years, or sooner, we will be a species with dexterous
thumbs and a missing empathy gene.
After living half a decade I can discern good from evil, hopeful from
hopefulness. But my children cannot, or at least not so well, and I can only imagine
how the continued onslaught of horrible and ugly and villainous and tragic
affects them. It makes me wonder if the decrease in our mental health--and the
increase of our drinking and drugging and gunning—is our Darwinian desire to
not feel the pain. Peace...
My favorite month, for what brings more joy than to read and write poems every day for a month?
Here, one of my favorites from William Carlos Williams. It reminds me that spring is coming, the earth cracks from its cold and the green spears of life will soon poke through.
THE RED WHEELBARROW so much depends upon a red wheel barrow glazed with rain water beside the white chickens.
So spare, so elemental, our attention drawn to a single object. This is Willams' gift--to paint a still life from an every day item using fewest words.
And now time for me to contemplate my daily poem. Every year I join the April Poem-A-Day (PAD) group over at POETIC ASIDES, the brilliant poetry Writer's Digest blog moderated by Robert Brewer. The theme today: new arrivals.
By day, I'm an uptight and proper academic - you know, a publish or perish type who resides in tall towers with the likes of Rapunzul. In the evening, I morph into a lovable mom and wife, play with my children, hang with the hubby.
But when darkness falls and the house stills, I write.