Tag Archives: Elizabeth Earley

1.
It’s never neat and tidy. It doesn’t feel comfortable in clothes. While it hurts, it doesn’t hurt in the typical way but is heavy and low and pulling, like roots — not pleasant but real and necessary and satisfying.

2.
It doesn’t ask permission, it just comes.

3.
It doesn’t always flow. It also trickles and gushes and clots.

4.
It’s strangely comforting although isolating: it doesn’t want you to socialize or be around people but you’re amenable to that…

On our first date, Lucy told me that she was attending couples counseling with her husband. They were separated, but when they were together their marriage had been open. Recently healed from a broken heart—another married woman who, in the end, did not leave her husband—I was turned off. Still, I thought perhaps we could be friends. Maybe we could even be friends who slept together without emotional attachment. Casual intimacy had been a…

It’s been one year and five months since I wrote the first page of my current novel. That happened in December of 2010. Granted, that first page was more the expanding on an idea than an actual start to the thing. It came to me right after a surgery I had and I was only three weeks post op when I wrote that page. So after that, I sat on it for six months….

Getting candy in a family with five kids when you’re the youngest is a rare treat. For me, it was all about Mary Mare. Mrs. Mare was an old woman on our street — she lived in the smallest house at the end next to Electric Boulevard with a cherry tree right there on the edge of her yard, cherries hanging out over the gravel road. My brother and I would pick them and…

Do you ever feel like you’re reliving a similar experience that you’ve had before, but this time with a new twist or added element or slight or not so slight variation? It happens to me fairly often. Perhaps it’s because I carry certain past experiences so powerfully into the present. Not by choice, but because they are a part of the history of my body. They contribute to the composition of color that I…