
A Conglomeration of Ink-Stained Scriveners
“A writers’ conference? That’s a misnomer,” Kurt Vonnegut once said. “Since writers don’t confer. They just drag themselves past each other like great, wounded bears.”
“A writers’ conference? That’s a misnomer,” Kurt Vonnegut once said. “Since writers don’t confer. They just drag themselves past each other like great, wounded bears.”
‘A pair of potent warlords—a Hispanic general and a Suisun Indian chief—face a conflict that may alter the fate of their peoples. My tale of this day is historical fiction; it’s based on a real event.’
Two views of cabinet secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr., Then & Now.
My first view was written nearly 30 years ago.
And my current view, I wrote last week.
A big, brawny storm can seize me with an utter fascination. Pretty much, such storms always have.
Long before we humans began to play at recreational runs—scampering about to win finisher medals, not sprinting away from cougars—a simple discipline existed to produce enduring health benefits of a more well-rounded caliber.
You can discover life’s meaning gift-wrapped in a spiny sheath, deep inside a cone that falls from a Bristlecone Pine.