Lit

At eight years old we know weather advisory gray, know what is coming. We all have our discs at home, the wax to make them fast. Sleds, snow...

“A hunch is creativity trying to tell you something.” — Frank Capra   Last year, I wrote my seventh book, American Blonde. I had originally handed the...

Birds hang Emma Fox’s laundry. She is the State Flower of Long Island. Emma Fox sits next to me in chorus class and I hope there’s scientific...

I could sense they were looking around the room at each other, wondering why I was no longer talking. Some covered smiles with their...

I was just starting to sit down to the piano when I wrote this song. I wanted to write about having to do something...

On the Interstate, my daughter tells me she only has two questions.  I’m relieved because she usually has two hundred. I say, Okay, let’s have them, and...

Traveling to the house of born and raised, I dredge a map from muscle memory.   If I said the bones called me home, I’d be taking the...

The first step in stealing a car is to put gas in it, and that’s because even though teenaged girls like myself have airhead...

I wrote 'Why' when I was fourteen. I was thinking about myself, my sister, and basically every young girl I knew. I'm hoping it's...

The girl sat by her bedroom window. Morning light sifted through the sycamore. The goldfinch hopped along a limb and chattered its nervous song....