Category: Writing

  • It’s Summer Vacation, and I’m Bored… (Unedited)

    We are on day two of the kid’s summer vacation, and this morning I was told by my daughter that there is nothing to do, and she’s bored.

    Ah, yes. The dreaded but completely expected statement which I knew was only a matter of time before it was uttered.

    I know that this is a sticky debate for some parents. There is one camp which is “Let the kids be bored” as that will teach them to make their own fun. The downside to this stance is that most kids, mine included, will go running to a screen… so not so much a win there.

    The other camp is to schedule the kid to do stuff, and keep the boredom away. The two downsides on this one is that parent is solving the problem and not the kid. The second point is that activities can be expensive.

    I’m trying to find a balance in the middle. I want the kid to solve her own boredom issue without running to a screen, which means that we have to set screen limits. The other side is that this might be one of my last summers to do stuff with the kid around the City, and I don’t want to pass up the opportunity to spend time with her.

    There is one other thing. If I’m spending my time with the kid, that means I don’t get a chance to work on my writing. (I only have four minutes left before I have to go off and make everyone lunch.) I’m trying to figure out a way that we can sit in front of the TV and watch the World Cup together, and I can work on some things, but that is an awful plan as I get wrapped up in talking to the kid, or watching the match.

    I also have to remind myself that the way I grew up, is nothing like the way my kid is growing up. I grew up in a suburb outside of Dallas that was full of families and kids, so every summer, I could run out of the house, and find another kid to go and do something with, and never leave the block. My daughter’s friends are spread out all over the City, and each kid goes to a different type of school, so not everyone’s vacations line up. She really can’t run out the door and play.

    Anyway… Today, we are going to kick the soccer ball in the park and draw on the couch as we watch the World Cup. That should do the trick for today.

  • Short Story Review: “Stories” by Annie Ernaux

    (The short story “Stories” by Annie Ernaux, which was translated from the French by Alison L. Strayer, appeared in the June 8th, 2026 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Photograph by Jet Swan for The New Yorker

    You know what I like most about Annie Ernaux’s “Stories”? Well, besides the language, and tone, and ethereal feeling of the loss of a past childhood, or how it feels innocent and menacing at the same time, or the power of words and storytelling, or how the protagonist/narrator doesn’t seem to be a very nice person because she sort of traumatizes a five-year-old. No, my appreciation for this story began to form when I finished reading it, as I was left wondering how fictional was this piece? I know full well that the overwhelming majority of Ernaux’s work is autobiographical, but I was still left wondering, to what degree is this fictional, or factual? For the sake of writing this, I’m going to come down on the side of fiction, as it is in the “Fiction” issue of The New Yorker, but I feel that for this story to work on all levels, Ernaux needs us the believe that this really happened. And not a portion of it; all of it. Even though I am sure this story is based on an event which has been fictionalized.

    See, it’s that last paragraph which might well be the best, and correctly used version of the “Dead chick in the basket” trick. (To explain, “Dead Chick in the Basket” refers to a writing device where the final paragraph of a short story contains new information about a character which is meant to make the reader view the actions, statements, or feelings of that character in a different light. This device was effectively used in J.D. Salinger’s short story “Just Before the War with the Eskimos,” where the name of the device comes from.) We go through this whole story, and then are given this last paragraph which seems to explain that this is all real. Or is it? She is a character in her own story? She wrote this to understand herself, but ended up writing another story? (You know, this just might be an unreliable narrator.)

    I will die on this hill of a fictional interpretation, because wasn’t Ernaux trying to tell us in this story that she discovered she had the ability to create a fiction so powerful that the audience accepted it as reality and had an honest emotional reaction to it? It’s like it’s meta on meta on meta. And we will never figure out what the truth is because only Ernaux knows that.

  • Ode to My Dog Who Sleeps All Day

    Oh, my little dog.

    You do nothing all day.

    To move from your bed, to my bed, to under my bed, to the couch, then under the dinning room table, ending on the middle of the floor; you are so tired.

    When I am at my desk, you lay under it. I look down at you, and though you act like you are sleeping, I see your side eye.

    What do you wonder? What do you dream?

    You do not understand time, but you understand pattern.

    Where is the lady? Where is the kid? Why are you still here? I think I will sleep. No! I will lick my left front paw. THEN, I will sleep. Hey you’re moving… I will follow you to the couch… where I will sleep next to you.

  • Short Story Review: “The Dreamdrive” by Weike Wang

    (The short story “The Dreamdrive” by Weike Wang appeared in the May 25th, 2026 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Illustration by Chris Harnan

    Reading “The Dreamdrive” was like watching my favorite basketball player miss an unobstructed layup.

    First, there was the tone of the piece, which was attempting to be lighter, easy, and humorous. The effect of this was that the story never achieved a depth. Everything was presented at arm’s length, making the story feel like nothing was at risk, or truly important. Also, in an attempt at humor, one character was described as “his then girlfriend,” implying her eventual fate. This cliched trick of description can work if it is partnered with irony, but in this setting, the attempt was to humorously build sympathy for our sad sack of a protagonist. Unfortunately, I did not see the reason why we needed to have this information presented in such a manner.

    Second, the revelation of the dream fell out of the sky and crashed like dishes on the floor. It was as if the narrator decided that the story needed to end now, and we were quickly given the relevance of what had been happening. But without any foreshadowing, or even a climatic build up, the revelation doesn’t achieve any resonance. Such as, now that the protagonist understands where his reoccurring dream is coming from, how does that help him move forward? It’s implied that he can sleep again, but is there nothing deeper here? How is the hero changed, other than being able to sleep? It felt to me that an emotional plot point was missing.

    Third, with the tone and lack of resonance in this story, it made the narrator sound condescending to the protagonist. The narrator treats the protagonist as a person to ridicule and kick around. Multiple times the hero is shown as a person no one takes seriously. And honestly, if the narrator doesn’t care about the protagonist, then why should the reader?

  • Gratitude Lists

    I have been trying the “gratitude list” thing for the past month now.

    In the rendition that I was shone, when you wake up in the morning, you are supposed to make a list of 10 things you are grateful for, but you cannot repeat the same thing day after day. You gotta come up with new ideas. Makes sense, because I can see people cheating at this and putting down their spouse, or kids, or dog… maybe not in that order. The point is that you start off the day on a positive note, listing what you have, or what’s working on your life, or what you have in abundance.

    I won’t lie, it kind’a works. And I say kind’a because you have to have the right attitude for it.

    Here are a few funny things that I have gratitude for at 5:30am on most weekeday:

    Pasta

    Bacon

    Socks without holes

    Gum

    Quiet Neighbors

    Growing Up

    A/C

    Hugs

    Pep Talks

    Flirting

    JUst to name a few…