Barbara Kingsolver, on short stories:
"...the successful execution of large truths delivered in tight spaces... the business of fiction is to probe the tender spots of an imperfect world."
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I didn't have to go to work because of hurricanes again, but still I was sad all day, I don't know why. I was reading Frank McCourt and inevitably my heart broke, but it wasn't that. It wasn't the weather either because as soon as I stepped out into it I felt better. The light was all blue and the rain was close together, the kind that gets you wet through to the skin in about four seconds. We sat and read for a long time in the coffeeshop, which is an entirely different thing done with Logan than done alone. We drove back home through very strong wind in a very tiny car and now I'm safe and able to do the real work, of which this blogging stuff is just a happy side effect.
