By Boyah J. Farah
(This is the second post by Somali-American writer Boyah Farah. You can find his first piece here: "Fear, Giddiness and Surrealism: My Long Journey to GrubStreet.")
I am afraid of death and time. Death ceases memory. Time fades away the memories of war. The war in Somalia began when I turned thirteen years old. Then I saw the killings
June 4, 2014 | Boyah Farah
In addition to teaching, I always take classes at Grub each term to keep up with my own writing. So, when Grub offered online classes for the first time in the fall, I decided to take Grace Talusan's Art of the Personal Essay online class. I had taken an in-person class with her a couple years ago (which was fabulous), so I had high hopes for her online class. I was not disappointed
January 15, 2014 | Nadine Kenney Johnstone
November 15, 2013 | Susan Williams
I once had a writing teacher who advised us to begin the first draft, not with writing, but sitting. Specifically, we were to descend to the basement and sit cross-legged on the damp floor. Preferably we would be wrapped in a sleeping bag. The basement, as I understood it, because we were meant to draw on our deepest subconscious. The sleeping bag, to protect our quivering writer egos.
October 10, 2013 | Guest Author
Did you know agents might not read beyond your first line? As a hopeful novelist, clutching a newly-completed first draft and wondering where to start with revision, I was aware that the opening pages of a novel were important, but I didn’t realize how crucial first lines could be until I met Sorche Fairbank, agent and Grub Street instructor.