It rained on New Year’s Eve, and I stretched myself across my bed to read my journal from 2022. I try to do this on the cusp of each year, and I’d like to say it’s an enjoyable thing--- one of reminiscing and laughing over the good times had, and sometimes, it is. For example, … Continue reading A Year in Writing
I was out for a walk yesterday, brown leaves hurrying across the street, when I met my neighbor Mrs. Brenda. Before she asked it, I knew her question: "How's your book?" she called over the whir of a leaf blower. She's an author herself, and when I told her I was breaking ground on a … Continue reading Upon A Year Inside the Conservatory
You're a writer, and suddenly, it's 1940 again, and the streets are dark because the blackout curtains are pulled tight. But behind them, there's a lamp in the window of a second-story university room, where Jack Lewis and his brother brew tea and smoke. The bell of Christ's Church tolls nine as they wait for … Continue reading A Table in 1940
FOR SALE--- White desk with scrolled drawers and just right for a little girl to grow up into— preferably someone who’ll write stories into its wood and not mind the dinks and bruises. I wrote my first novel on it, which also happened to be my last. I wrote my first few articles, then hundreds … Continue reading FOR SALE: Desk In Need of a Writer
Hey, my friends. If you aren't in a hurry and happen to care, I'd like to tell you about my writing desk--- the things on it and the things inside. I've hung pressed flowers in the corner of my bedroom here, trying to bring a bit of the garden inside. One is a lilac from … Continue reading An Update From the Desk in the Corner
Dear Young Writer, There will be times when you write with the wind in your sails, when the world is too full to take in, and ideas leap up so fast you can't reel them in. And then there will be times— probably more often— when you can’t remember what those other times were like. … Continue reading Dear Young Writer,
I remember reading where C.S. Lewis and his friends (J.R.R. Tolkien among them) would sometimes walk a days’ journey across the English countryside together, stop at a pub for beer and rest, then take up their walking sticks again the next morning. “It was an idyllic way to spend three or four days. Footpaths were … Continue reading Writers On Walking
The “what-are-you-doing-for-college?” question comes my way a lot, and I have trouble packaging an answer. I’ve sort of wandered the web since I graduated, taking free classes like English Comp and Public Speaking and Theology. I worked with Jonathan Rogers over at The Habit for a few weeks, whipping my writing into something more earthy … Continue reading The Conservatory
I’ve called this place Bethany J’s Journal since it’s beginning, but I’ll admit it isn’t my journal— not my real, blue hardback with the exotic fish on the front and squatty cursive inside. Here, I draft, tweak, redraft, edit, polish, and find pretty pictures to match each article. My real journal is messier, and while … Continue reading Introducing “Sunday Sketches”
For seven years, I stood on my neighbors’ porches every other Friday to hand them some pages I’d written, rolled into a rubber band and labelled: Argyle News. The neighborhood newspaper was mostly a briefing of the birthdays, holidays, and graduations in my family, sometimes headlined by a tree that had fallen across Edgewood Road … Continue reading Front Porch Ambitions
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