April 22, 2012 § Leave a comment
A few months ago I attended a workshop to teach writers how to use social media. Bizarrely, I knew almost everything that was in that workshop – for my clients. I had even had a meeting with a client in the previous week and urged many of the things that were in that workshop. I had just never applied the advice to myself. So before I could frighten myself out of it, I bought susanrdixon.com and started this blog. That’s the first thing – to dare to be visible. « Read the rest of this entry »
April 12, 2012 § 1 Comment
This piece is inspired by a poem by Marge Piercy called Seven Horses. I riff on the idea of horses as symbol and mediator for the imagination.
I wish I had had horses. I wish I had thought of that. I like to think my imagination is one of my best features but I know that is a debatable point. At first the people around me like it when I say, “I have an idea!” but then it begins to happen that they run the other way. My ideas are too literal. I really mean them. Perhaps I would have drained a little energy if I had imagined myself riding the flying red horse from the Mobil sign. « Read the rest of this entry »
April 6, 2012 § 1 Comment
“I’ve been thinking about beginnings,” I said. I had been clearing the garden and had paused to marvel at some radish sprouts that were making a straggly line across one of the beds. Coyote was filling the compost bucket.
“In what sense,” he asked. “Spring? New life? Great Blue Heron eggs?” « Read the rest of this entry »
March 22, 2012 § 2 Comments
I had gotten a little turned around (as my grandmother used to say) and I suspected Coyote had something to do with it. We were making soup from the remains of the vegetable bin and we were each holding a knife. Not that I expected that to have any bearing.
“You’ve told stories for ever so long,” I said, starting in on an onion and hoping a little flattery would catch him off-guard, “so what do you think about The Tourist? Should I keep going with it?”
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January 22, 2012 § Leave a comment
I am morbidly fascinated with the people who debunk Dan Brown’s novels. Brown has created rolicking adventures that are not even that well written but tap into what anybody wants in a story. You don’t even have to be a “conspiracy theorist” (an entire category the debunkers love to look down on) to think there might be mysteries, things hidden in plain sight, “more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” « Read the rest of this entry »