A lot of this new work has been made or conceived by the idea of escape...This past June I found a great spot in Costa Rica. I Airbnb'd a little spot 100 meters off the coast and made my little beach shanty Studio. For the next 30 days I was drawing everyday at the beach 8-12 hours with a few dips in the ocean.
Jessy Randall, 46, has had diagram poems, poetry comics, and other things in "Poetry," "Story," and "The Best Experimental Writing 2015"; Briget Heidmous, 27, is a multi-media visual artist exploring the principles of ecology employing scale as illusion. Her work has been in solo exhibitions at the Manitou Art Center and The Machine Shop, where she was artist in residence in 2014.
The idea of being a reporter seemed absurd, and leaving the cozy little room with the Haddlesomes not particularly unappealing. I was about to say so when Mr. Mochrai spoke again. “Just don’t come blatting to me, when you cock-up,” he said and then shuddered. “And I’m not going to hold your hand, for every story about rosebuds and feminine protection and breast feeding or what have you, so I’ll thank you for not asking.”
All the essays in this column (including the one you’re reading now) began, in my mind, as “book reviews.” Eventually, I came to think of them as “book-inspired essays.” In moments of honesty, though, I’ve called them “personal essays disguised as book reviews.” I view myself as a husband and father, a physician, and a writer, in that order; therefore, not surprisingly, these essays almost exclusively focus on my marriage, my children, my doctoring, and my struggles with the written word. I mean these essays as the highest compliment to the writers whose books inspired each piece. Again, borrowing from David Shields in defense of his own self-obsessed book reviews: “There’s always an implied love story between me and the writer – me loving the book, loving the writer.”