Writing my Life: Excerpted from Upcoming Talk
Monday, February 9, 2009
I am held into place by the world in which I live. My continuity is my neighborhood, the streets I walk, the stretch of fabled road between my own house and my parents’. I am tethered here by the slow simmer of a passion that began in 1973, when I moved with my family to a house on a bend. When I began to walk and drive, with them, the roads that would always mark me as a writer. I’ve written memoir. I’ve written poetry. I’ve written fable. I’ve written short stories. I’ve written novels. I’ve written history. Everything I’ve languaged is touched by the trees that leafed and the trees that were felled, by the bales of hay and the frozen pond, by the flower that wouldn’t bloom and the garden that did, by the fox that arrives and the deer that departs, by the crow that threatens and the hawk that stays, by the ribbon of asphalt that carries me home.
— from "Writing my Life," Tredyffrin Public Library Grand Opening, Tuesday, February 10, 7:30 PM
