On Writing, Nuns, and Rains

Mr. Larson dies. I wrote yesterday how, in writing out a little bit of the third chapter of “THOD,” a character appeared. A grandfatherly-type, a Richard Kiley sort. Mr. Larson. He’s a neighbor. A boy rides his bicycle past his house nearly every day. He tends to flowers in his front yard. He lived throughContinue reading “On Writing, Nuns, and Rains”