Tag: writingcoach
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how to find your voice
The other day I saw an Instagram post from a fashion icon and poet, where someone asked them, “How do you find your style?” They answered, “Heal.” Wow. What an answer. And how true. You can only know what clothing expresses your inner self when you know and accept that inner self. You can only…
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water and shared water
One night eleven years ago, my best friend came over for dinner. We were chatting along as usual when I began chopping a sweet potato, and she interrupted herself to say, “What are you doing?” I stopped. “What do you mean?” “The pieces are so uneven,” she said (not critically—just neutrally, surprised, curious).“You’re just, like,…
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the silliness of thinking…
When I was 19, I spent a month in Ghana. Inexplicably, in the months leading up to this, I pinned a strange hope on that trip: that when I came back, I’d be able to improvise on piano. (This is exactly as illogical as it sounds. True, I would be taking drum lessons and a…
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and that makes you hard to see
After college, I worked as an AmeriCorps volunteer in Rochester, New York. My friends and I spent a lot of time at dive bars, namely one where we could spin a wheel to win cheap beer and hog the jukebox all night with our laundry quarters. We talked about anything and everything, and one night,…
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advice from a stranger
In February 2020, I took a road trip around the U.S. I met my friend Sam in New Mexico, and we decided to hike the Atalaya Mountain Trail. Around 8,000 feet we passed another hiker, a guy in his sixties decked out in hiking gear, standing in the middle of the trail. He waved his…
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on keeping the channel open
I just counted, and I have 37 houseplants. I only bought about 10–the rest came from propagating, cuttings, and lately, now that my compost is the ripe old age of six months, from the soil itself. In fact, so many seedlings have sprouted that I just scooped some compost into a tin can and am…
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a night at the tiki
“What do you do?” a random drunk guy yelled over the crowd. The guitarist in the corner was on his third “Wagon Wheel” of the night, so you know the tiki bar was hopping. A little tipsy myself, I yelled back, “I’m a writer!” A moment of alarm. Did that sound dumb? Would he laugh?…
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a bridge, a mask
Last week I sat down to write an essay about the year I spent leading creativity workshops in a women’s prison. It felt like an obvious topic, one that would hook people’s interest and inevitably lead somewhere interesting. But it didn’t. Every paragraph was a dead end. Finally I walked away. Later that night, though,…
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when writing gets boring
The other day I asked a client how his memoir was going, and he told me he was thinking of quitting. “It’s getting boring, reliving the same events over and over,” he said. “I’ve already told the story a hundred times; it’s not new anymore.” This struck me because I often talk about writing as…
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did you see the pigeon?
Soon after I got to Peru, I was walking along the boardwalk in San Bartolo. Several stories below the ocean crashed into the shore, unburdened by swimmers or surfers. Cevicherias sat empty, waiting for the summer crowd. I’d decided to learn Spanish about a week before, so naturally I started eavesdropping on everyone I passed.…
Kimberly Bunker, MFA 