WOW, there’s a lot of anger out there. And in here. And everywhere. It’s nearly impossible to go on the Internet, join a Zoom call, or chat with a friend without someone—maybe even you or me!—bursting out in a diatribe of some sort. Yep, we’re all angry, . . . but what is the root cause of this anger? And...
Hi, friends. How are you holding up? Someone dear to me sent me the following image and gave me permission to share it. (I’d love to give attribution if I could learn where it originated. So if you created this, send me a message, and I’ll give proper attribution.) So here are some great daily quarantine questions for all of...
In a previous blog post about Heather Rose’s astonishing novel The Museum of Modern Love, I wrote about how what seems commonplace can actually hold the deepest truth and wisdom. And then, in another post, I wrote about how pain inspires art, while engaging in art exposes one to pain. These two concepts are intertwined with a third concept vital...
English Class As Art Appreciation One year when I was in high school, my English teachers (the same ones who inducted me into the magic writing cult) organized a class trip to New York City. They believed that the best way to teach literature was to expose students simultaneously to other forms of art (such as fine art, film, and...
Hi friends, For those of you who are writers or have an interest in writing, I have exciting news. My 31-page e-resource for writers is now available! It’s called 10 Steps for How to Stop Procrastinating and Write That Book! (or Article, Story, Essay, Blog, Poem . . .). How to Access the E-resource The e-resource is only available to...
As I explained in last Friday’s blog post, I found George Orwell’s essays to be simultaneously dated and highly relevant to today’s world. So, pop quiz: What’s cringeworthy in this passage? What’s modern and timeless? “A scrupulous writer, in every sentence that he writes, will ask himself at least four questions, thus: What am I trying to say? What words...
Waaaaay back on September 9, 2019, two days before something fell on my head, I wrote a post called How I Learned to Write (Part 1: Was It in College?). At the end of it, I promised to write more on the topic next time. This didn’t happen—actually for various reasons; it wasn’t just due to the concussion. It was...
Happy New Year! Let’s hear it for 2020! This is our year, . . . the only one we’ve got right now. Let’s make things happen! I’m excited about so many things I’m planning for this year. Here are just a few of the many upcoming events and activities in the works around here in LizaAchilles-land. What’s on the horizon...
Speaking of ranters, today I’d like to introduce to you a writer I adore. Like me, she writes a blog for people who like to read, write, and think. Unlike me, she doesn’t restrict her rants to Christmas Day. They come all year round! And if you happen to be a writer, she’s def someone to have on your radar....
The short story “The Woman Destroyed” has quite the breathtaking title, don’t you think? I mean, destroyed is a hardcore word. This is not, apparently, a story about a woman annoyed, a woman thwarted, a woman in a bit of pain, or a woman having a bad day. This is about a woman destroyed. The most relevant synonyms for destroyed...
Hello, friends! Well, well, well. . . . This is like Hello, World! all over again. It’s been a while since I’ve written to you. But, no, this isn’t my first blog post. However, . . . this lapse in posting is not mea culpa! Exactly three months ago—on September 11th, believe it or not—something fell and hit me on...
Strangely enough, I did not take any writing courses in college. Neither my B.A. in English nor my M.Ed. in English required me to take even a single writing course. There was a writing course requirement for all incoming students at the college (of arts and sciences) within the larger university that I attended; but I passed out of it....
The first date was a dinner date! When the waitress came, the inquisitive one ordered the Sloppy Spaghetti With Corn on the Cob. The waitress’s face acquired a look of uncertainty. She said, “Are you sure you would like to order the Sloppy Spaghetti With Corn on the Cob?” The inquisitive one proclaimed, “Yes!” Soon, the food arrived. The inquisitive...
I’m excited to share that an article I wrote was today published in the Washington Independent Review of Books. Read the article here!
Hey, all! Yesterday I walked through the Shoreditch area of London and took in some street art. (Many thanks to K., who recommended it to me.) The best graffiti is beautiful and powerful, evocative and provocative. It’s, you know, art. Graffiti can dispense insight. It can offer alternate ways of looking at reality. Often found in gritty urban settings, it...
I was stumped by yet another medical mystery. A prescription drug that helps me immensely also makes me tired. I have trouble waking up. I feel fairly alert in the morning, but I ache to nap all afternoon. And forget the evening—I’m ready for bed immediately after dinner. My doctor has been helping me experiment with different remedies for this...
Speaking of confidence—it’s something that’s very difficult to project in social situations, no matter what color your dress is. Possessing the rare talent of confidence is like possessing a bag of scratch in a yard full of free-range chickens. It’s guaranteed to make everyone come running, or at least look up at you with curiosity and interest. Let me tell...
Around noon on Tuesday, having nothing better to do, the inquisitive one drove to the little skating rink in the town square and parked in the garage. After gathering up the hockey skates in the back seat, the inquisitive one walked to the rink. But the skating rink, the inquisitive one saw, was packed with people! Some were racing one...
If, on the other hand, you felt more inclined to travel by motorcycle four days ago—this post is for you. Bruce Springsteen’s song “Born to Run” definitely isn’t about strapping on your running shoes—the thought makes me bust out laughing! No—it’s about “suicide machines,” and the narrator is “a scared and lonely rider,” who’s thinking, “we gotta get out while...
I know, I know—we were in the middle of a series of posts about Émile Zola’s The Ladies’ Paradise, but I’d like to hit pause on that to share some exciting news with you all: I have acquired my first byline! So, apologies, but you will have to live in suspense as regards the nineteenth-century novel I was previewing—it’s a...
The author and anthropologist Zora Neale Hurston could not find a publisher for her book Barracoon that did not want her to make extensive changes to the manuscript (as I mentioned in my last blog post), and so her book was not released until 50+ years after her death, 80+ years after it was written. The cause of the disagreement...
I made it to the top! Wow! Look at this lovely vista stretched out before me. The water, the trees, the distant towns, the sky . . . every splash of color is comfortable, serene, and in its rightful place. Ah, what a landscape! What a view! Less metaphorically speaking, I just finished a book. I wrote and wrote, until...
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Upheaval Jared Diamond
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Bad Behavior, This Is Pleasure Mary Gaitskill
The Brother Gardeners Andrea Wulf
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Why I Write George Orwell
The Woman Destroyed Simone de Beauvoir
Educated Tara Westover
The Gift Hafiz
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Your Duck Is My Duck Deborah Eisenberg
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Born to Run Christopher McDougall, Bruce Springsteen
The Ladies’ Paradise Émile Zola
The World Beyond Your Head Matthew B. Crawford
All the Birds, Singing Evie Wyld
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Dandelion Wine Ray Bradbury
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Play It As It Lays Joan Didion
The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck Mark Manson
Convenience Store Woman Sayaka Murata
Perfect Me Heather Widdows
Sorry to Disrupt the Peace Patty Yumi Cottrell
Why Buddhism Is True Robert Wright
What Is Real? Adam Becker
Kudos Rachel Cusk
The Days of Abandonment Elena Ferrante
F*cked Corinne Fisher & Krystyna Hutchinson
Searching for Stars on an Island in Maine Alan Lightman
Wide Sargasso Sea Jean Rhys
Infinite Jest David Foster Wallace
A Room of One’s Own Virginia Woolf
A Journal of the Plague Year Daniel Defoe
Creatures Crissy Van Meter
Indelicacy Amina Cain
Say What You Mean Oren Jay Sofer
Habits of a Happy Brain Loretta Graziano Breuning
Bad Behavior, This Is Pleasure Mary Gaitskill
The Brother Gardeners Andrea Wulf
Severance Ling Ma
How to Be an Antiracist Ibram X. Kendi
The Museum of Modern Love Heather Rose
Why I Write George Orwell
The Woman Destroyed Simone de Beauvoir
Educated Tara Westover
The Gift Hafiz
The Collected Schizophrenias Esmé Weijun Wang
Your Duck Is My Duck Deborah Eisenberg
Sapiens Yuval Noah Harari
Milkman Anna Burns
Under the Banner of Heaven Jon Krakauer
Waiting for Bojangles Olivier Bourdeaut
A Mind Unraveled Kurt Eichenwald
Eugénie Grandet Honoré de Balzac
The Body Keeps the Score Bessel van der Kolk, M.D.
The Bookshop Penelope Fitzgerald
Digital Minimalism Cal Newport
The Sisters Brothers Patrick deWitt
Dare to Lead Brené Brown
My Year of Rest and Relaxation Ottessa Moshfegh
Almost Everything Anne Lamott
Born to Run Christopher McDougall, Bruce Springsteen
The Ladies’ Paradise Émile Zola
The World Beyond Your Head Matthew B. Crawford
All the Birds, Singing Evie Wyld
Barracoon Zora Neale Hurston
Dandelion Wine Ray Bradbury
JavaScript & jQuery Jon Duckett
Home Fire Kamila Shamsie
The Weather Detective Peter Wohlleben
Play It As It Lays Joan Didion
The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck Mark Manson
Convenience Store Woman Sayaka Murata
Perfect Me Heather Widdows
Sorry to Disrupt the Peace Patty Yumi Cottrell
Why Buddhism Is True Robert Wright
What Is Real? Adam Becker
Kudos Rachel Cusk
The Days of Abandonment Elena Ferrante
F*cked Corinne Fisher & Krystyna Hutchinson
Searching for Stars on an Island in Maine Alan Lightman
Wide Sargasso Sea Jean Rhys
Infinite Jest David Foster Wallace
A Room of One’s Own Virginia Woolf
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