Did I need an MFA to write a novel? No, I did not. Did I need an MFA to open a bookstore? No again. But I was a solitary kid, and I imagined a solitary life for myself. My MFA showed me the importance of community. We are social creatures. Even the introverted readers, the silent writers, want a place where they feel welcomed and understood. I had

Calling him a saint is just a way of letting ourselves off the hook. After riding around with Charlie, I find it shocking to realize how simple it would be to see myself as a worthless servant, to find joy in the service of others, to open my heart and let it remain open to everyone, everyone, all the time. The trick is in the decision to wake up e

Everything hurt and nothing killed me.

I wondered if I would get tired of looking at something that had become my book jacket. The answer is no, and I never will. The painting informs my life.

MOST OF THE writers and artists I know were made for sheltering in place. The world asks us to engage, and for the most part we can, but given the choice, we’d rather stay home.

I suspect this is to remind us of the holiness of the ephemeral: we’re always so busy looking towards (for) the eternal.

Death always thinks of us eventually. The trick is to find the joy in the interim, and make good use of the days we have.

From the first minute she was a force every bit as recognizable as her mother. That feeling of life coming into the room was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before, a flood of joy. I thought of it ten years later when I climbed into my grandmother’s bed and held her while she died. The light pouring in and the light going out.

it may be art but it’s also a fact.