It is now commonly understood that “Little Green”, one of the most arresting tracks on Joni Mitchell’s classic 1971 album Blue is a work of autobiography. More specifically, it’s about Mitchell, alone and freezing in the middle of winter in downtown Toronto, giving her child up for adoption, a fleeting last wish for her daughter’s happiness that the two will no longer share. Rendered in slightly veiled language, the song nevertheless spins a heartbreaking portrait of intermingled loss and hope, even divorced from its specific subject matter. The crucial thing, though, is that this context was not known at the time of the album’s initial release, and many had assumed it was simply a story song in the vein of many that were common from singers-songwriters of the time, such as James Taylor and Carole King.…
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You search for signs everywhere. You can’t help it anymore—it’s a habit. You find it in the secrets the wind whispers to you. You find it in the stairs that don’t creak for the first time in seventeen years as you come down slowly. You see in it your dog Chase, who doesn’t wait for you at the bottom.
You think back to the last time that happened.
Never.
You think he might know. At least feel it. Faint music plays in the house. Classical music, your ears register distantly—from Dad’s extensive collection. He would know the whole story behind it. You can’t even remember the musician’s name.
Ice frosts in your veins, because of the memory, what it means that your brother is playing it.…
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My early life is charmed. I’m invulnerable. No such thing as tomorrow. February 1952, I’m six months old, and a childless Air Force lieutenant and his wife receive me at the Catholic infant home in Rock Hill, South Carolina. They love and care for me in their tiny Sumter apartment as best they can. Children want a forever happy story. In time, they learn more, but the worry-free child knows only now.
*
Mom vacuums the forest green wall-to-wall with her Eureka at the new home we share with Nana and Granddaddy; the secure place to which we’ll return between transfers. I’m four and follow her as she cleans. A sudden shock of pain makes me reel near the open basement door. She’s fired a chunky vacuum cleaner brush hard at my tailbone, and I wail.…
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(Contains major spoilers for the finale of Big Little Lies)
Let’s talk about Audrey.
Specifically, let’s talk about the quartet of riotous, righteous Audreys who come to the defense of their fellow embattled, battered Audrey in the finale of Big Little Lies.
I just re-‐watched the climactic scene on the back terrace, and upon second viewing, it is so much more. A fight plays out at the top of those treacherous stairs, during which all the Audreys—those quintessential, classic icons of delicate femininity—are transformed into a shield, a battalion protecting one of their own against a cruel, unjust patriarchy.
Who are the Audreys? On the surface, they are characters attending a themed “Elvis and Audrey” costume party. But why these five Audreys? My lovely sister is an acclaimed costume designer, J.R.…
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We saw it painted orange
and filling with smoke.
The walls upended and rode
gravity to the earth—
the people followed suit.
They lifted their hands
to fan the smoke
but drowning the fire
wasn’t in the cards.
We tried to brace
the stonework
on our backs,
we tried to lay the bricks
again. The broken men
became ghosts and buried
their own bodies. We left
the rubble behind.
We washed our hands of it.
– Amanda Stovicek…
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My vision today
Transcends that of all before
And still I seek more
I witness colors
You cannot identify
Nor could even name
Virgin resonance
That you denote only as sound
Enriches my ears
And taste: such richness
Cascades across my palate
So effortlessly
Each is alien
And equally elusive
And always will be
Haiku was never my strong-suit. It never had to be. Five syllables, then seven syllables, then five syllables have a Zen quality about it. I would like to tell you I wrote the poem, but I didn’t. Not in the normal sense. What I did was collect the words already suspended in the ether and arrange them in a pattern acceptable to the reader. No pen or paper. Neither a dictionary nor thesaurus. …
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Since 1997, B. Lynn Goodwin‘s Writer Advice has grown from a newsletter for writers into an e-zine that invites reader participation through quality fiction, memoirs, interviews, reviews, and articles reaching readers around the globe. She has also written You Want Me to Do WHAT? Journaling for Caregivers (Tate Publishing), Talent (Eternal Press), and Never Too Late: From Wannabe to Wife at 62 (Koehler Books). She’s won The Literary Lightbox Award, the Bronze Medal in the Moonbeam Children’s Book Awards, and was short-listed for a Sarton Women’s Book Award. Goodwin has appeared in Small Press Review; Dramatics Magazine; The Sun; Caregiver Village; Good Housekeeping.com; and elsewhere. She’s a reviewer and teacher at Story Circle Network, as well as manuscript coach at Writer Advice.
Susan Wittig Albert, Ph.D.,…
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