A lovely essay about Grace.

I got out two of her story collections last night. Plots may not have figured highly in her work, but man, does she have voice, that most elusive–and vital–of all writing elements.

I’ve loved her writing since I discovered it in the late ’70s. She has died of breast cancer. Here’s her obit

…. my longtime Thursday night critique group. Some of

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In the summer when it grows too warm to sit around my dining room table, we meet in the front yard. Here we are, outside.

In the summer when it grows too warm to sit around my dining room table, we meet in the front yard. Here is my essay class, now over, though some of my students will continue in the fall with the memoir class. We do have fun.