Archive for October, 2014

  • Why I Write

    The other day, a drunk man at a bar asked me why I do what I do.

    “What? Drink Honig Sauvignon Blanc?” I asked, my personal bartender Windsor rolling her eyes in dismay.

    “No, wretch. Write,” he replied. Yes, I know him a little.

    I’ve never really stopped to think about why I write. But now that I have a moment, and encouragement from someone on his fifth Pinot, I’ll try.

    I grew up without money. We had no phone and no car. It was a little more difficult, therefore, to encounter other people.