Posts by Lee Martin
Love Is Blind (and So Is Essay Writing)
A year or so ago, my MFA students were constantly talking about a reality dating show called Love Is Blind. Couples “dated” in pods, separated by a wall and unable to see each other unless they eventually agree to be engaged. If you’ve ever watched the show, you know the thrill of not knowing—of trusting…
Read MoreKeep Writing: Controlling What We Can
Well, it finally happened just as I hoped it would. I reached the age of seventy. I’ve been publishing my fiction and nonfiction for thirty-eight of those years, and I’ve also been teaching others what I think I know about craft and the writing life. So much of what happens after we’ve written and sent…
Read MoreA Stranger Comes
When I got up this morning, Timmy, our neighborhood stray cat, was waiting on our patio. As is his custom, he sat very still, looking in through our window. He’s a very patient and persistent cat. He waits until someone comes out with a bit of food for him or fresh water for his bowl.…
Read MoreRevising: Cutting Your Way to the Center
We’re nearing the end of the summer growing season in our garden. We’re still getting a few tomatoes, and a second planting of Blue Lake bush beans is still producing, albeit noticeably more slowly now. A few green peppers are hanging on. We’ve cleared out the first green bean planting, the Brussels sprouts, and a…
Read MoreContext and Association in the Essay
Cathy and I had a small serviceberry tree planted in our landscaping this summer. The tree, as is often the case, was just a tad crooked. Today, we finally got around to staking it with straps and ropes meant to straighten the trunk. In other words, we interrupted its natural growth to train it to…
Read MoreBlackberry Picking
When I was a child on our farm, I often went blackberry picking with my mother. She patiently taught me which berries to pick and which to leave to ripen. She gave me an empty pail that once held the government surplus syrup we got because of my grandmother’s blindness. She lived with us, and…
Read MoreWork
Today, Cathy and I sowed arugula, spinach, and turnips in our garden. As always, I thought of my parents and how they worked side by side when it came time to plant. My father marked off the rows with a one-wheeled cultivator; my mother dropped and covered the seed. I’d been the one to till…
Read MoreAnother School Year
In my first memory of school, I’m four, and I’ve gone with my mother to Claremont Grade School where she teaches. She’s come to ready her classroom for the start of a new year, and I’ve come along. The hallways smell of floor wax. The lights are off in the gymnasium, where I’ve come to…
Read MoreRight Place, Right Time, Wrong Person
Friday, Cathy and I had to make a stop at our local post office. Cathy pulled into a parking space as an elderly man in the space next to ours was getting out of his Cadillac. He was wearing a gray sweatshirt and darker gray sweatpants. His walk was a shuffle. He had to take…
Read MoreRe-Entry
Cathy and I just got back from our week at the Vermont College of Fine Arts Postgraduate Writers’ Conference in Burlington, VT. Last year, due to cancelled flights, we had no choice but to drive from our home near Columbus, Ohio, to Burlington. This year, we decided we’d do it again. On the way out,…
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