Imagine This: Creating the Work You Love

*Forthcoming November, 2014

From the introduction: Occasionally for some there comes a moment that insists on deep introspection and we come upon unspent energy, unused or under-developed capacities that push us toward what is at first a mystery. Like a vow of expansiveness, it wins our attention. Engagement in a conscious creative expression is a free-will choice for growing or standing still.

“Inspiring, engrossing and informative, this is a book for all people – whether or not they consider themselves artists – who know that they have lives worth living fully and purposes worth fulfilling completely.”

- Tayari Jones, Author of Leaving Atlanta and Silver Sparrow

Purchase the book at:

Agate Publishing

Barnes and Noble

Indie Bound

October Suite

“In the Midwest, October comes in when the pale coverlet of sky lifts away, exposing an eternity of deep and certain blue. The sun no longer stares, merely glances and makes long shadows much like the uneven fading of green from trees just before the lesser pigments fire-light the whole outdoors. The air cools to crisp, carries sound farther. Last pears ripen and fall, ferment on the ground; the aroma of their wine mixes with the pungency of leaf smoke from nowhere and everywhere. At nightfall, the wing-song shrill of crickets announces that this season has a natural pathos to it, the brief and flaming brilliance of everything at the climax of life moving toward death. October Brown had named herself for all of that.”

“Told in a melody all its own, this story touches many lovely and unexpected notes…”

- Elizabeth Strout

Purchase October Suite at:

Agate Publishing


Winner of The Chicago Tribune’s Heartland Prize for Fiction.

“…each skillful plot twist, each new, wonderful character has the effect of a sip of literary love potion. There is magic dust sprinkled over each and every page….”

- Veronica Chambers, New York Times Book Review.

Purchase Rattlebone at:

Agate Publishing

Coping With Gravity

From “Blank”: Mornings, even before the dream fog lifts,/ it starts. I wake to the sound of memory / idling in my head, waiting to rattle off / the day’s indictment: no poems./ It nags like hunger and I am the cook.

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