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I have been in this cafe for a little over an hour, writing in my Daybook to the ambient sounds of chatter, the clanging of dishes, all blended with the meditative, hollow sounds of Deuter playing his bamboo flute. On these pages, I have written about singular moments I experienced decades ago along the marshy…
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One of the questions I am asked most frequently about the process of writing is which is most important: the writing or the publishing? It’s a good question, but like everything else associated with the practice of writing, it’s not an easy one to answer. When we look at the process of writing, we can…
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Dateline – Tuesday, 28 January 1986. 11:35 a.m. I’m upstairs in my bedroom, cramming the last of my new textbooks in my bag, grabbing a few extra pens and my journal, and checking my look in the mirror: clean-shaven, every single hair gelled in place, and wearing a white oxford with a blue Hugo Boss…







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