Columns

Dear Leo #12

Keanuland! A disorganized column about staying organized by Leonora Desar Warning! This is not a sexy column. If you are looking for zaniness, genius writing prompts, or personal confession you will not find it here (much). I only wrote this because my deadline is...

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Dear Leo #11

French Fry MFA And getting on your “dark and twisty—” by Leonora Desar Dear Leo, I am a failure. A charlatan. I call myself a writer, but I spend most of my time on Twitter, drafting tweets (and this is on a good day). I had some success a few years ago, but now I am...

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Dear Leo #10

When I Was a Teenaged Witch and other stories practical advice by Leonora Desar Preface to a crafty blog entry Dear Leo, Nobody loves me. I mean, people love me, like my boyfriend and my cat, but they’re kind of under obligation. The folks that count—the...

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Dear Leo #9

The Misfits How writing outsiders can make you truly, truly outrageous by Leonora Desar I am not talking about the punk rock band. I am not talking about a Flannery O’Conner character, or even the Misfits, the rival all-girl group in my favorite 80’s cartoon ever, Jem...

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Dear Leo #8

Betty and Veronica— or how opposites attract (the reader) by Leonora Desar Opposites are in. This is in the tradition not only of Paula Abdul, but of film, literature, comics, TV shows. Infomercials, probably, too. There’s Betty and Veronica (Archie). Mike and Eleven...

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Conversation in Hotel Lounge by Lydia Davis

Two women sit together on the sofa in the hotel lounge, bent over and deep in conversation.  I am walking through, on my way to my room.

Café Mozart Dreamin’ by Tracey Meloni

Judie bangs on my hotel door. “The dressmaker is here! Hurry! You have Christmas lunch with Noah at Café Mozart at 1PM!” 

Little Red Riding Hood by Katerina Kishchynska

Grandma gets her episodes at least once a month. She’ll grow out her jaws and if it happens on a rainy day, claws will tear out of her fingers.

The Girl In Purple by Bobbie Ann Mason

Near dawn, Dennis Moore saw the iron gate to the courtyard inch open and the wisp of a girl squeeze through, clanging the gate behind her. Two minutes later, on the boardwalk, she halted as if for an invisible dog, then resumed her dog-walker gait. He followed her...

Lady Gaga Considers the Shrimp Scampi by Steve Almond

There were fifty thousand little monsters screaming for an encore, Spaniards, Germans, skinny little French boys, Italians making wet sounds with their tongues.

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