Category Archives: Dreaming on Paper

It is early morning and I am back. Back at my house on the lake. Back here in Milledgeville, where I lived three years ago. Back at my loft perch overlooking the blue-green water through big, triangular windows. For four … Continue reading →

For some time people had been saying that Woody Allen had shot his artistic wad. For me this has been true pretty much since Annie Hall, a film whose aggressive clichés were tempered (if that’s the right word) by Allen’s … Continue reading →

I remember the sound of the draw fan in the ceiling at the top of the stairs by the linen closet, thrumming through hot summer nights. My father, an inventor, had rigged up a crude timer switch, with a little … Continue reading →

“Your First Page” followers will have noted a hiatus in my postings. The silence you hear is in fact the sound of your editor at work on his own fiction, toiling at Draft # (fill in outrageous figure) of his … Continue reading →