I have, more than once, referred to Jackson, Mississippi as my own personal battleground.Read More
I feel like I’m being handed both of my dreams, holding them with trembling hands, filled with a sense of wild exhilaration and heavy responsibility, hoping I don’t drop them, hoping they don’t get taken away.Read More
It’s Sunday, and I’m here to write 800 words. I forgot about it last week, but grace for that. I was in rural Missouri with my mom and Laura Ingalls Wilder and no computer. It was the greatest.Read More
Most mornings, I journal.
It’s usually the first thing I do once my brain is awake, even though it takes me about 30 minutes to get there.Read More