Acceptance Letter (Specifics TBA)

I’m happy to announce that another of my essays has been accepted for publication. Until I have all the details finalized, I can’t give you true specifics. I am proud of this one.

MaynardThe piece, like “Worry,” was very personal and very easy to write. I wrote it to process and in some ways escape the death of my dog (the handsome fella to the right). It just flowed out. After it was done, I was reminded of the sheer biological necessity of my writing. This catharsis was vital. I knew I’d done it right when, after the rush of writing and editing and submitting, I felt scooped out and empty. I’d been excavated. For several days, I lay on the couch and could do nothing. It hurt and was numb and felt good all at once.

I’m so thankful that I’ll be able to share it with you soon. Maynard touched my life very deeply, and I hope this piece manages to extend his reach even more.

‘Worry’ in Best American Essays 2017

“Our power is patience. We have discovered that writing allows even a stupid person to seem halfway intelligent, if only that person will write the same thought over and over again, improving it just a little bit each time. It is a lot like inflating a blimp with a bicycle pump. Anybody can do it. All it takes is time.”
— Kurt Vonnegut, Palm Sunday

I often turn to Vonnegut, not just for inspiration, but also consolation. August has been difficult for my family. I had to say goodbye to my loyal writing partner of over a decade, my dog. As I figure out a whole new daily routine and realign my senses to not be alarmed by my dog’s absence, there has been good news on the writing front. Small victories, as they say.

One of those victories I can share with you now is that my essay, “Worry,” was selected as a notable essay in the 2017 Best American Essays anthology. I am extremely humbled by this recognition. Worry was an ape who took me in and guided me through seven years. She was, in almost all ways, my grandmother, looking over me. She passed away in 2014, but I like to think that she’s still taking care of me.