Category Archives: …Grafediting

Inside publishing

Posted on September 16, 2009 by heath quinn

I’m almost ready to start on my three-book-drafts marathon. Hoping the fates are with me, I’ve taken it as a good sign that the energies coming into my life are about moving the expressive voice out from the artist to … Continue reading →

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Taking notes

Posted on August 22, 2009 by heath quinn

Sometimes I get so dramamatic. Know what I mean? I think it’s insufficiently-focused energy, leaking out in words. I’m full of power, brilliance, wit and tenderness (hehehe, I’m so fine), but I hold it back most of the time. The … Continue reading →

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How to cry and smile at the same time

Posted on August 9, 2009 by heath quinn

Instructions here: War Dances, a short story by Sherman Alexie (published in this week’s New Yorker). share?

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Time and the writer

Posted on August 8, 2009 by heath quinn

Compare Elizabeth Rubin’s new NY Times article about Hamid Karzai, Afghanistan’s President, Karzai in His Labyrinth, with her 2006 article on the Taliban resurgence in Afghanistan and Pakistan, In the Land of the Taliban. share?

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Up in the air

Posted on June 18, 2009 by heath quinn

I just read a piece about perception, compassion, thoughtfulness, and a broad understanding built, over time, through local experience. It has some of the most piquant writing I’ve ever read. Almost every sentence contains a reversal that’s beautifully constructed and … Continue reading →

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Absolutely brilliant

Posted on May 25, 2009 by heath quinn

Stanley Fish’s brilliant blog “The Writing Lesson” is the finest piece about teaching writing I’ve read. A short, enlightening article. share?

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Why they did what they did

Posted on May 21, 2009 by heath quinn

There they were, all in a row, crowding the wires strung high over the street, balanced over tight-gripping claws, looking something like small crows. But they were sparrows. They spoke to each other frequently, calling out over this wing or … Continue reading →

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Spelling your name, 3 drafts

Posted on May 4, 2009 by heath quinn

Last night I fell asleep under only a sheet. There was a chill rain all night, and my windows were open. Later I woke from the cold. My right hand was tracing the name of the man I love in … Continue reading →

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Collecting bowls and such

Posted on April 25, 2009 by heath quinn

While meditating the other day, these visions flowed in: Carved jade bowls, the stony sides of mountains reflecting sunshine, translucent stone, the translucency of celadon-glazed Chinese porcelain, and the colors of thin sheets of jade and rust against light, over … Continue reading →

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Callery pears

Posted on April 21, 2009 by heath quinn

Callery pears, their white lace and cream like Watteau; the etchiness of oaks in bud, scribbled high. Reach for the sky, the sap’s up! As sweet and raw as a wood fire am I, and sad as the sea. What … Continue reading →

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Frederick Seidel, poetry, love

Posted on April 14, 2009 by heath quinn

On the weekend, I read an article in the NYTimes about Frederick Seidel, whom I’d never heard of. He reads six of his own poems in a multimedia piece attached to the article. His six readings, which last less than … Continue reading →

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Back on the chopping block

Posted on April 8, 2009 by heath quinn

When I start a blog, I have a sense of a theme and try to write the blog conversationally. As I struggle to express my thoughts, I walk around my points and use too many words. share?

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Tough love, 3 versions

Posted on April 5, 2009 by heath quinn

(1) “Still in love?” she asked. “Yes,” I said. share?

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