My mother was a great reader of romances. Not the classic kind. The sort that make money. In my far-back childhood in the last century, reading a book was still a usual way to pass time.

In this Writer's Journey essay, Carol Ann Wilson shares how, in reading and reviewing The 1619 Project, she also uncovers "parts of a bigger me to be discovered and explored."

I guess I am a lesson in never giving up. I’m almost 70 (well, I just turned 69 so 70 is a year away – still seems like almost). I…

Ever find yourself rolling your eyes when you hear that phrase ‘back in the day’? As often as not uttered by some grisled cynic bemoaning the loss of an older…

When you look at a mathematical fractal, you see self-similarity; not only do different parts of the figure look almost alike, it looks the same as you zoom in and out of it, its form governed by the parameters of the iterative algorithm that generates it. Can narratives similarly iterate by filling time rather than space, recapitulating condensed or expanded versions of events and examples of themes?

Today, I am reveling, writing in Edith Wharton’s house, The Mount. It’s quiet. I am sitting at a small table in front of a window in the room on the third floor that was Henry James’ bedroom. I knew I wanted to write from an early age but lacked the courage to pursue my dream. I was a born reader but that didn’t mean I could write. It’s not that easy.

“A Train Whistle Blows” was my first short story that was not conceived and developed from first-hand experiences or any individual(s) that I’ve encountered, known, read about, interacted with, or…