300 tiles. Continue
That was how many Bruce ordered for the guest bathroom. That was almost how many he used. There were a few left. I store them in the garage. They are bone-colored. Some are square. Some are elongated and bull-nosed. They sit in their open cardboard boxes like perfect teeth, like baby teeth, that smooth but sharp edge without a single bit of use.
Bruce died a few weeks after finishing the bathroom. When I look at the tile now, I see…
Added by Mylene Dressler on January 24, 2015 at 9:23am —
When I was a kid we lit sparklers and glow-worms that left burn-trails on the sidewalk like tiny meteors that had tried to crawl away. We tied pinwheels to the wooden fence, as instructed, and lit them and watched them spin.Then we went to the marina to see the fireworks and these were very slow and came one at a time and each was only one color and came in only one shape, round. And yet nothing was less magical than today, and the scent was the same, of smoke that… Continue
Added by Mylene Dressler on July 4, 2014 at 10:12am —
This week, my Pushcart Prize-nominated novella, The Wedding of Anna F., about an unexpected encounter between an elderly Jewish woman and a young Arabic graduate… Continue
Added by Mylene Dressler on May 31, 2014 at 12:00pm —
Yesterday, near Round Mountain in Utah, I found a jagged stone struck by many tiny blows, leaving behind the trace of the human being who had met and shaped it. It wasn't a perfect arrowhead--part of the bottom was missing--but still I held it in my hand, wonderingly. All my life I've hoped to find arrowheads,… Continue
Added by Mylene Dressler on August 12, 2013 at 10:00am —
Feel like escaping for a moment, and stepping outdoors, to number the birds? I'm delighted to share that my first piece of nature writing--a new genre for me--has just been published by Flyway: Journal of Writing and Environment. From the notes Flyway asked me to provide to accompany my piece, "The Compiler":
"The birds have always been with me as I write.…
Added by Mylene Dressler on July 15, 2013 at 6:16pm —
So this week my first novel, The Medusa Tree, was re-released as an e-book by a wonderful paperless publisher, Untreed Reads:
When my agent…
Added by Mylene Dressler on June 19, 2013 at 9:31am —
In 2007, I came to live, for a humid fall season, in the home where I am writing this now. In this home a woman, now long dead, hunched over a typewriter--at least, I always imagine Carson McCullers hunching when she wrote, because her shoulders in photos always look slightly rounded, and her body seems to curl into anything she cares most about, she loves--and here she dreamed and got up and paced around and looked at the patterns in the carpet, waiting for the words, the idea, the… Continue
Added by Mylene Dressler on February 22, 2013 at 1:22pm —
My new novella, The Wedding of Anna F., has been published this week in Big Fiction. Here is how the story, about a woman who believes she is Anne Frank, begins:
The interviewer is coming today. So. Here is the simple part: choosing what to wear. I’ve told my little assistant buzzing downstairs—no, that isn’t fair of me, she isn’t little, she looms over my…
Added by Mylene Dressler on November 3, 2012 at 1:13pm —
I've been thinking about my ballet-dancing days today. As some of you know, before I was a writer, I was a professional ballet dancer, a career I loved to the moon and back; the stage also taught me a great deal I would use on the page--about rhythm, pacing, arc, tempo, movement, stamina, how to keep going going going until you think you… Continue
Added by Mylene Dressler on June 17, 2012 at 9:20am —
Yesterday I led a writing workshop at a writers conference, and today was contacted by a participant with questions that still burned: How do we keep going? How do we make ourselves keep writing, without any real deadline or urgency? How on earth do we stick to it?
Here, in part, was my answer to this serious, thoughtful, curious writer:
"I do understand entirely how it is easier to work when you have deadlines imposed from outside you. But in general,… Continue
Added by Mylene Dressler on April 30, 2012 at 3:56am —
Dear Friends, Continue
I'm very proud to announce that I am now part of new graffiti, a grassroots publishing project that gets literature out of our iPads and Kindles, off of our bookshelves, and onto the streets! Want to get involved? Go to…
Added by Mylene Dressler on April 26, 2012 at 8:26am —
Quite often, I find myself in a position known as that of the "Visiting Writer." I have to admit, I have a fondness for the title. It seems so deliciously appropriate. What is a writer if not a visitor? One who arrives, looks around, settles in, makes herself temporarily at home; then tries to find out as much as she can about her surroundings and the characters in them, observing, chatting, teasing, asking, touring, wondering, inserting, pondering; she tries, amazed, eager, hungry, to… Continue
Added by Mylene Dressler on March 8, 2012 at 4:38pm —
My room on the 19th floor of the Palmer House in Chicago faces the open air, and then a mirror of brick. Out the window, across a gap of thirty feet, lies another wing of the hotel and another bank of windows, exactly like mine. Each has sheer curtains overlaid with heavier ones; some are open; some… Continue
Added by Mylene Dressler on March 7, 2012 at 9:45am —
I am waiting for the bat. Continue
In July, when we moved in, he was here.
He roosted in a corner of our screened attic window, wadded tightly, a velvet sock rolled into the lower right corner. Sometimes he hung upside down, a hooded bulb.
Smaller than the paper lanterns hanging above him, the two empty wasp-nests.
Heavier than the dried leaves clinging in the spiderwebs.
Little brown bat.
I ran to the computer, looked him up. …
Added by Mylene Dressler on February 26, 2012 at 11:35am —
I want to remember this, and so I write it down. Continue
Ted spoke today. Ted doesn't often speak, but when he does, I listen. Ted is eighty-seven years old, a former chemistry professor--he and I have taught in the same classrooms--and an emigre who as a young boy was lucky enough to escape Hitler's…
Added by Mylene Dressler on January 22, 2012 at 2:58pm —
In Boone, North Carolina, a three-mile track of narrow asphalt and iron bridges creek-hops and rolls past meadows, sports fields, the ruin of an old dam and the pale blue tanks of a sewage plant. Start at the Armory, and you'll come first to the Equestrian Field. It was empty as a Roman arena yesterday when I and my husband and our two dogs strolled by, its grass perfect, untouched, an oval platter. The fence was freshly stained and smelled like biology class. Joggers went around it, not… Continue
Added by Mylene Dressler on August 12, 2011 at 7:18am —
I learned a new word this week: to "wallfish" is to bury or conceal wires behind a wall by means of creating a hole in it, and then hooking or fishing the wires up through it. It's a mechanism for hiding what's messy, or for trapping what's live and dangerous in a safe place. I have Andrew to thank for my new word. He came to my house this week to install cable television in a room where wires and plugs had been lying around scattered like kelp with teeth. The first technician who'd come to… Continue
Added by Mylene Dressler on July 7, 2011 at 5:40am —
Dear Friends, I thought you all might get a kick out of this: PopEater (AOL's pop culture site) yesterday published my story "How Dancing With The Stars Almost Ruined My Marriage"
to coincide with… Continue
Added by Mylene Dressler on May 25, 2011 at 7:40am —
So the other day I go rock climbing with Dan and Megan. This is how it came about: I had helped them with their manuscript--they are writing their first novel, a young adult fantasy/adventure about dreams that aren't only dreams but as real as stone--and in return and thanks they offered to take me up… Continue
Added by Mylene Dressler on May 9, 2011 at 9:36am —
Yesterday, sitting down and typing away, preparing for a talk I'll be giving later this month at a conference exploring the subject of "Creativity and Madness," I was giving some thought to my moments of extremity as an artist--for example, my apparent inability to get through the writing of a serious literary novel without going to some very dark and at times unhinged places, in which I sit at my desk and feel "strangely dissipated . . . unglued . . . unable to feel the distinction between the… Continue
Added by Mylene Dressler on February 2, 2011 at 9:10am —