Several years back, during a solitary trip to a remote New England island, I found myself in a fairly hairy situation. More

Who ever said the end of youth meant the end of adventure? More

MFA in kvetching: the truth about writing programs

When I look back on the two years I spent as a graduate writing student in New York, I wish I could say that I spent most of that time writing. In fact, what I recall spending a much greater amount of time doing was worrying.

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My friends all warned me about first-floor apartments. They told me nightmare stories about thundering footsteps and stereo noise from above, wailing babies, squeaky bedsprings. But as soon as I saw the street-level studio in Park Slope, I was a goner. More

Like many writing teachers, I am privy to secrets. I’ve read stories about lost love and illicit affairs, addiction, shame, family dysfunction of every stripe. More

What’s hardest about middle age are the regrets. When you suddenly, alarmingly recognize that your life’s half over, what’s jarring isn’t just the realization that you’ll never have the chance to do everything you’ve planned. More

“Hey!” a high-pitched voice called down to me. I stopped raking and looked up: The owner of the voice was a boy, maybe five or six, who was sitting on the fire escape of the apartment two floors above mine. More