I don’t believe in writer’s block, even though, truth be told, I experience it all the time. My denial seems similar to the good folks who acknowledge they don’t believe in God, and yet live everyday in a world abundant with his handiwork. Its as if ignoring writer’s block–as if inventing “necessary” errands and projects to keep me away from the computer–will make writer’s block non-existent. Of course this is only a psychological game I play with myself and not a very effective one at that. Continue reading
The Roots of the Olive Tree, by Courtney Miller Santo, introduces readers to five generations of remarkable, complex women, each with secrets and desires which cause them to alternately rub one other the wrong way, hold one another’s hand, and have one another’s back. The matriarch of the family, Anna, is a 112 year old supercentarian who oversees the family olive farm. Over the decades, her wisdom has sharpened rather than weathered, and she remains as spry in body as in mind. Continue reading
So this woman shows up at the Facebook Mormon Women Writers page and asks an innocent question, something that noted the liberal bend of most posts and wondered aloud if this group was only for liberals. I made the assumption that this was a conservative Mormon woman, worrying that she might not fit in, so I sent her a private message, meant to encourage her participation. Turns out, she’s liberal and we had a brief conversation–mostly me “talking” as usual–in which I admitted to NOT being a Mormon feminist. Continue reading
Death has made me a new woman. Obviously, not my death, but that of my brother. My baby brother. Mark Torcasso, who passed away on February 14th of this year after six long years living with Merkel Cell Carcinoma, a very rare and very deadly form of skin cancer. I will spare you a grieving sister’s laments and instead remind you to use sunscreen and cover up. Continue reading
Before I went through the temple for my own Initiatory work and Endowment, my fiance, a returned missionary who had frequented the local Provo temple often since his return, sat me down Continue reading
What a topic. How to approach and depict the sacred is something that has haunted artists throughout time. I’m very aware that I’m one little speck–one little known speck–in the artistic universe and that my take on the subject may be inconsequential to others. Still, approaching the sacred in written text is something I’ve contemplated for a very long time; something I’ve tried and erred doing; something at which I’ve achieved some level of success, or so I think. Continue reading
Our culture is only as deep, or profound, as our art, and it may well be that our art only becomes these things as our artists isolate what is sacred to the human soul and elevate it for our examination.