You have a story to tell. We all do. Ours is an oral history – told by great-grandparents, grandparents, parents, aunts and uncles, etc. Consider for a moment how many of our people’s stories will never be known because they were never written or captured in time. Instead, they areContinue Reading

Appalachian writers breathe words. Like meditation. They might gaze out the window, past that liminal space, and describe simple raindrops, circular, solid, and sparkling atop thick green leaves after a summer shower, each one a separate little universe, a micro-microcosm disturbed, perhaps, by a lone redbird landing abruptly on aContinue Reading