by Cynthia Newberry Martin | Aug 14, 2010 | continuous life, craft of writing, mfa, stories |
Black Maps, a collection of stories by David Jauss, won the Associated Writing Programs Award for Short Fiction in 1995 (Lorrie Moore/judge). These nine stories–with only one in present tense and the rest in past, and four in third person and five in...
by Cynthia Newberry Martin | Jul 17, 2010 | continuous life, journeys, life, memory, place, time, truth |
I walk every step of what used to be the camp, of what is now Kingsland Bay State Park. Then I sit in a white Adirondack chair with my pen and paper, looking across the bord de l’eau to the Adirondacks. I bring my vision in to the flag pole cemented to the ground. The...
by Cynthia Newberry Martin | Jul 15, 2010 | continuous life, journeys, life, memory, place, time |
I ask the young park ranger if there are any cabins left. He says no, just the shed. But it’s not just the shed. I take some photos of the outside of the cabin and head deeper into the woods toward the Point of Rocks. Something tells me to go back. The cabin is...
by Cynthia Newberry Martin | Jul 13, 2010 | continuous life, journeys, life, memory, mfa, place, time |
On Saturday, July 3rd, I took a break from lectures and readings and slid into my rented red Prius headed for the past. Even though Ferrisburg, Vermont, lies directly west from Montpelier, Google Maps directed me north to Burlington and then south. In addition to my...
by Cynthia Newberry Martin | Jul 11, 2010 | catching moments, continuous life, life, place, time |
Among other places–and I’m trying to discover which ones–Ecole Champlain, the French camp in Vermont where I spent three summers–1970, 1971, 1972–is a place that now seems mysterious to me, as if it’s withholding secrets instead of...
by Cynthia Newberry Martin | Jun 8, 2010 | catching moments, continuous life, journeys, memory |
The summer I was thirteen I flew by myself to Vermont for seven weeks of camp. Somebody in our cabin had brought a record player, and it was there in the woods that I first heard the music of James Taylor and Carole King. After I got back home, I bought their albums....
