Visiting Ireland a few years ago, I went to the Cobh Museum, which overlooks Cork Harbor, the point of departure for millions of Irish people fleeing the Great Famine. A large part of the museum was devoted to a stunning sensory exhibit of Irish men, women, and children forced to leave the family . . .

I grew up on a midwestern farm located between the Wabash and Illinois rivers. An anonymous writer described that vast prairie as follows: “the gentle wind moved the supple grasses like waves of a green sea under the summer’s sky.” Some are born into the world with a determination to flee their . . .

I’m writing a short story about an old lady who uses a Claude Glass to view the aftermath of a tragedy. What is a Claude Glass? While watching Grand Tours of Scotland on Prime Video, I learned of the Claude Glass, or mirror, since in English, the word “glass” can be replaced with “mirror.” The… . . .

I’ve been walking around the house, looking for my muse. When I go on walks, I search for her in the clouds, in groves of trees and fields of dandelions. The state of the world and the nation are distractions, to be sure, and I’ve been doing left-brain things like editing manuscripts, working with . . .

I’ve been spending a lot of time with Alvin—that’s the name I’ve given the TTS (Text to Speech) function on my computer. He sounds like TV personality, Dick Cavett, only mellower. Having Alvin read what I’ve written helps me edit my work. He does a good job, though he pauses too long after commas, . . .