Category Archive: Translating Twenty-Five

These posts explore what it means to be twenty-five.

Or rather, they attempt to translate the chaos of my life to “definitions of twenty-five.” It’s a quest of sorts (although, not one really supports me calling it that). I don’t know what I’ll find, but I hope to discover adventure along the way.

This Saturday and Beyond

Dear Family and Friends in the Baltimore Community,

First, I want to thank each and every one of you for the ways you’ve encouraged and supported my writing over the last four years.

(If you haven’t even known me that long, or if you don’t identify as such a supporter, that’s okay. Somewhere along the line, we probably had an unrelated conversation or you waved to me once at a bus stop or somehow your email has made its way to my address book unbeknownst to you. That’s okay. There are perks to this. I promise. Just go with it.)

Second, I want to wish all of you a happy end-of-the-summer-start-of-autumn and share with you cool literary events you might be interested in over the next few months.

I especially want to draw your attention to the first event on the list, a book-signing at Ukazoo Books in Towson this Saturday, August 29, 1-4pm. If you haven’t purchased your copy of and the floor was always lava yet (and would actually like to—because that’s a key part of the equation), please stop by, say hello, and grab your copy at that event. (You can also just stop by to say hi or bring me a smoothie. That’s your call.)

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One Year and Two Days Later: The In-Between

My book turned one on Saturday.

Now, I don’t have any kids—a fact my students remind me of frequently—but this feels significant. Or, actually, it feels like it should feel significant. Mostly it just feels weird and factual: One year (and two days) ago, my writing found its way into the hands of a lot of people all at once.

I should say something more about that, right? Or maybe I should run some kind of timely promotion like any good seller of stuff. [Okay, that I actually did. Check it out.] Or maybe I should address the many questions people ask me like, what’s next? Are you staying in Baltimore? What are you writing now? Seriously, are you really staying in Baltimore?

No matter what, I should say something about something—anything!—because I’m a writer and haven’t written anything of consequence [not totally true] in now-over a year.

But I can’t! Or couldn’t? Or maybe just haven’t tried in a while…for a lot of reasons, some complex, some less so. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

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