Conversation with Ed Bull on The Lit Pub

Several years ago, my writing buddy Ed Bull interviewed me to promote the release for my long essay titled Riding Solo as an e-book. Ed had always encouraged me to write as wildly as I lived. In college, I rode a motorcycle, casually hooked up, and feuded with a girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend also named Chris. (Now, I drive a sedan, am married, and only posses residual jealousy issues.) My conversation with Ed was buried in the ether of e-mails between writers and publishers, but I dug up the interview–perhaps it’s best to consider it as a time-capsule–and Molly Gaudry graciously published it on The Lit Pub.

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Read the entire interview HERE.

Buy the e-book HERE.

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“That Day It Was Not Just Another Test” on The Good Men Project

When I turned around, everyone was staring at the TV. It was on the local news station. The all capital letters of a green MUTE layered over the LIVE in the corner. At first, I thought the smoking building on the screen was in Orlando. The headline below the image read about a plane crashing into a tower. It was probably an idiot private pilot that had drifted on takeoff from the executive airport downtown into the skyline, which had happened in Florida cities before. Then I read the white text on black background that said NEW YORK. The bell rang.

[. . .]

Read the entire essay HERE.

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“The Apprenticeship that Changed My Life” on The Billfold

 

Seed Spacing

AdaMae became a Master Gardener in 1995. For twenty years, she cultivated her house’s double-plot into a landscape. When I worked with her she did what I called, “the walk and talk.” She puttered around with her favorite pair of straight-blade, springy hand-clippers deadheading while spouting off the scientific names of her plants as if listing her entire Welsh genealogy. I thought I could barely keep up with the common names, but after Lauren and I parked our bikes in the driveway and locked them together, I began to point out the plants as we walked from AdaMae’s front to back yards.

In front of the house’s steps, next to a silver maple, intricate green stems of diamond frost bulked out of their pots with white nail-clippings of petals scattered inside the bushy plant. Moss wedged between the cobblestone path paralleling a curving stream that ended in a bubbling fountain. “There’s a naked lady!”

 [. . .]

Read the entire essay on The Billfold.

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“Pepper” anthologized in The Careless Embrace of the Boneshaker

 

 Less than six months ago you had walked down the aisle of your home church, First United Methodist in Buckhannon, West Virginia, with your Chicagoan husband Rich Wiewiora. While he was used to diversified metropolises, LA wasn’t your small country town, LA was the inner city. It felt divided. You could feel the lingering static from the previous year’s riots. But it wasn’t like you hadn’t grown up with black folks—your freshman roommate was black—it was just that everyone was black there. And you, you were a white speck of salt.

[. . .]

Read the rest of my second-person POV essay written about my mom’s cross-cultural missionary training in LA during 1980 by buying the anthology The Careless Embrace of the Boneshaker from great weather for MEDIA.

My greatest thanks to the prose editor Thaddeus Rutkowski–a fellow half-Pole–for including my piece.

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“Powsin Spring” on The Good Men Project

In a forest, outside of Warsaw, two rows of metal faucets gushed water into white ceramic sinks. I stood in line holding Dad’s hand. One of the spigots squeaked closed; the flow stopped, and then a Pole left with a filled container. I could whistle more birdsongs than I could say Polish phrases that I’d memorized. I stayed quiet with Dad. Another Polish person stepped up and untwisted the valve, opening the flow again.

Read the entire essay for Father’s Day HERE.

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