Merton’s coming to Alaska in that beast of a year, the “year of everything horrible” as he referred to it, is a little-known, under-told story. The publication of my book, We Are All Poets Here, coincides with the 50th anniversary of Merton’s Alaska journey, which also happens to be the 50th anniversary of his death. Alaska was one of the last places on earth he saw.
Thomas Merton & the Art of the Journal If you write for God you will reach many men and bring them joy. If you write for men—you may make some money and you may give someone a little joy and you may make a noise in the world, for a little while. If you write only
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A Harvest of Wisdom—Lessons from a First Book I signed the contract for my first book in an east Anchorage home exactly one year and ten months ago, on December 16, 2015 at 10:30 p.m. in the middle of a Christmas party while nervously sitting in the host couple’s master bedroom. During the holiday cheer
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Listening to a Literary Monk: Balancing Writing with Silence Thomas Merton chose to live on the margins. As an isolated Trappist monk, he joined a strict and austere religious order as a deep and profound act of cultural resistance. He entered the Abbey of Gethsemani on December 10, 1941 at age 26, a newly confirmed
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I confess to being a little intimidated when 49 Writers Executive Director Jeremy Pataky asked me to write four weekly blogs about writing, subject to harsh dissection by Alaska’s best writers. I lack a fine arts degree, never begin my day composing an original poem, and don’t even keep a journal—other than a log of
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My lifelong obsession with Russia was about to be realized: the book I’d been contemplating for decades and to which I devoted almost three years full-time researching and writing was nearly in hand. My publisher, the University of Alaska Press, announced the release date: June 1, 2017. To accommodate the frenzied demand I was certain
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Spritzing vodka on an Alaska Airlines jet when de-icing fluid couldn’t be found in the Russian Far East. Alaska’s First Lady forgetting her passport on the first high-profile visit to the USSR in 40 years. Launching notes of friendship across the Bering Strait tied to weather balloons instead of messages in a bottle to
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Melting the Ice Curtain: The Extraordinary Story of Citizen Diplomacy on the Russia-Alaska Frontier I can still see the smiling man with the movie star tan waving from the back seat of a white convertible as the crowd thundered: “Ken-a-DEE, Ken-a-DEE.” My mother had pulled me from first grade for my first campaign rally:
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In the 21 years it took me to complete my book and pitch it to an agent, the publishing world had changed dramatically. No longer were the big six publishing houses paying hefty advances to newbie authors. No longer did agents clamor for unknown memoirists. “Why don’t you self-publish?” I was asked repeatedly. The reasons
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It’s easy to see why authors compare launching their books to birthing a baby. The gestation period between signing my contract and publishing my memoir, Pieces of Me: Rescuing My Kidnapped Daughters was precisely nine months. The sleepless nights as I tossed and turned before the book’s release were as constant as they were during
