Author Archives: mabujones

My Aunt Dorothea Buchanan was one of the last survivors of the 1917 Halifax, Nova Scotia Explosion. She was six at the time of the catastrophe. Her youngest sister, my mother, would get irritated because Dot would recount that day … Continue reading →

Spring cleaning means getting rid of the winter soot and smears, letting the light arrive fully so everything looks more spacious, more sensible, more inviting. Spring cleaning in our writing can mean finding pieces that were abandoned because we didn’t … Continue reading →

This week I ducked into Amherst Books, one of my favorite emporiums of words both new and used. As I perused the shelves, I came to the end of an aisle near the children’s section. There in the corner was … Continue reading →

A week ago, six intrepid writers braved a nor’easter to come and write with me. As each one bent over a keyboard or notebook, it took little time for their bodies to relax and the writing mind to be transported … Continue reading →

Someone once asked me: “Why write this?” They were pointing to a copy of a poem I had offered for review by the workshop. I froze. The question was a wall I could not surmount. As I drove home, I … Continue reading →

The silence that comes with days of more dark than light offers more than hibernation. I’ve learned to look for still moments in my life and try to translate them into my writing. So often, in stories, these moments are … Continue reading →

In the words of the apparently immortal Mick Jagger: “You can’t always get what you want.” We can sing along to this hard-earned wisdom, and, like so many life lessons, we can accept it or not. Turning the idea around, … Continue reading →

When writers ask me what form a piece of writing should take, I think of my distinguished journalism professor, Larry Pinkham, who spent eight years in Beijing establishing English-language journalism programs and two years in India as dean of the … Continue reading →

I have spent a lot of time in laundromats and find the sound and the warmth of those big machines very comforting. I have also discovered that my mind wanders wonderfully as shirts, sheets, socks swirled and spun. So I … Continue reading →

My neighbors to the east and west of me talk to me about chickens. Not the price of them or how many breeds there are. They talk about the sound of them and their eggs: “I love the soft sound … Continue reading →