Earlier in the year, my brother Jason Koons tagged me in a challenge to do 7 days of nature photography on Facebook. I always meant to share here, but never got around to it. So, several months late, here we go! Day 1 It was raining today, which put me in mind of this picture from Berry College in 2009. I love the way leaves look in the rain–each drop like a small galaxy. Day 2 When we were at the redwood forest in CA, my niece Megan pointed out these tiny, tiny mushrooms underneath the giants. Children...
Among other things, my family has given me the Hoarder Gene. Thus whenever I am traveling, I collect scraps (tickets, maps, miscellany) to store away forever. After I studied abroad in 2012, I wound up with a whole box of various bits and pieces, and little idea what to do with them. In spring of 2014, as I neared the last six months of my time in Bath, England, I happened upon a charming photo album on sale at Paperchase. In retrospect, I think it’s actually meant to be a wedding album, but at the time I had two thoughts:...
Last July, I volunteered to co-edit the Bath Spa University MA Writing for Young People anthology with Irulan Horner. I don’t think either of us realized quite how much work we’d be doing, though we were warned. Over the last ten/eleven months, I’ve worked from afar extensively with our mail-out team, developed a website and social media strategy with Lindsay Schiro, and edited, edited, edited the little book that became Beautiful Lies. (Also, I’m going to humbly approach the #bragtable and mention that the title was my idea – based on a David Almond quote – and I am very...
The way I build worlds is by collecting cool stuff from the history, myth and people around me. I blend these details with my own imagination, and create my own cultures. Culture is a vital part to realistic worldbuilding. Normally there are a few particular cultures that interest me at a given time. I read whatever I can find about them, their environment, their traditions and their myths. The interesting details filter into the new world I’m creating (example: at one time, Venetian widows could only remarry on the stroke of midnight). In the long term, there is nothing more inspiring and challenging than visiting...
10. Mont St Michel, France Before dawn, when the tourist buses haven’t arrived and cats rove the alleys with bleary-eyed delivery men—that is when Mont St Michel is alive. You stumble half-asleep through its medieval streets, and in the cold and the dark it’s not a tourist trap, it’s timetravel. You stand on the old walls, look out at the treacherous marshes and watch the tide come in. At first the water hardly seems to stir, but then you look away, look back, and the ground’s vanished. When the monastery opens, and you elbow past the late-comers to an empty nave, echoing...
(Originally written on June 12th.) If you don’t know what Claridge’s is, that’s cool—I didn’t either a few weeks ago. But turns out it’s a super fancy hotel in London. When one of my mom’s friends had a conference coming, she invited me to stay with her. I said yes, but I didn’t know what I was getting into! A man in a top hat and uniform stepped up to the cab to let us out. A bellhop took our luggage. We pushed through the spinny door (love me some spinny doors) and entered a huge, gorgeous room filled with...
As you may or may not know, I have been traveling from April 10th-April 29th with my mom and sister. In our mildly insane adventure, we went from Paris across northern France, then to Somerset and Cornwall before winding up in London. Instead of taking the time to type up all my journal entries (which are nearly half my new journal anyway), I thought I’d do a roundup post and just give you guys the sweet stuff. (more…)
While in Paris, Mom, Laura and I went to Musée d’Orsay to see the Impressionist paintings. It wasn’t until I saw the first Renoir that I remembered he and I share Rheumatoid Arthritis. When I saw that first painting (I can’t remember which it was), his words rang in my head as if I’d just read them: “The pain passes, but the beauty remains.” (more…)
Wrote this while I was abroad, but I didn’t get the chance to take it to Tolkien’s grave. Thought I’d share anyway. Dear Dr. Tolkien, I wanted to thank you for changing my life. When I was a little girl, my dad would read your books to me and my siblings. He read them three times to us, when I was eight, and again when I was twelve, and again when I was fourteen. When I was twelve I prayed for Frodo after he was stabbed. Later I remember running to the book and turning to the passage in the...
