I love food. I'm not a great cook, but I love to cook, and I like how different it is from writing.
In terms of foods for me, I think I have more of the usual associations - foods from childhood that I associate with care and love, from relatives or special restaurants like the kind elderly man who dusted seasoning salt on French fries at the corner burger joint.
I did plays in college, and I have half of a play. But I'm kind of stuck. I keep revisiting it so maybe it will move somewhere. There's something about plays where you can feel that sense of artifice at any moment.
When language is treated beautifully and interestingly, it can feel good for the body: It's nourishing; it's rejuvenating.
I get a little myopic in the act of doing any writing. I think I'm not as interested or not as able to write about balance, because I think there's something I want to try to get at. I'm trying to get at something about the experience of growing up or about families.
Large meadows are lovely for picnics and romping, but they are for the lighter feelings. Meadows do not make me want to write.
