I found this place impressive, cinematic, unusual...and unsettling.
Tower of Memories
Author: Leah Kent
Writer. Researcher. Analyst. Queer.
Denver, CO
Write badly
One of the things that's been joyously freeing about my writing program is that we're given permission to do something important: Write badly. In order to create a sculpture, you have to start with a big block of clay, or a stone, or a chunk of wood. At first, you're just hacking pieces away and … Continue reading Write badly
Happy Halloween
The things we replace
As a young child, I had a small music box that played Fur Elise. I carried it everywhere. It looked much like this... My childhood one was smaller, and enclosed in plastic, but you get the idea. A really nasty adult, who was irrationally upset by my innocent obsession, took it away from me. Years … Continue reading The things we replace
What it feels like to shiver
Last night as I drove home from my writing class, there was a gentle, lackadaisical snow falling in Denver. The restaurant and microbrewery patios were empty. The homeless had taken shelter somewhere - at least I hope they did - as the temperature dropped. Less people roamed the sidewalks. It was quiet, in that beautiful … Continue reading What it feels like to shiver
Delete the explanation
The other week in class, my writing instructor said, "When you get rid of the explanation, the emotion really comes through." That hit me, because I was like...this is truth. This is a life lesson. Reveal something without directly saying it, and you make it much more powerful. Watch how others around you reveal things … Continue reading Delete the explanation
Literary mea culpas, literary prayers
In my writing class, there's a certain format to things. We read a bit of this, then reflect. Read another passage, discuss. A literary liturgy of sorts. There's something about this class that reminds me of Catholic masses, only without the standing and kneeling. (Though, I would say, our literary docent probably wouldn't mind if … Continue reading Literary mea culpas, literary prayers
In the coffeehouse
Killing time before my writing class, perhaps waiting for something in the way one waits for Godot. A blue-haired girl with large, round rimmed glasses is to my left, Misfits sticker prominently placed on her laptop, studying for what I think is a chemistry exam with a raven-haired girl with thick-rimmed black glasses. To my … Continue reading In the coffeehouse
On writing programs and pen names…
A little confession... Because I like to keep my identity private, I'm sometimes cagey about the details of my life, but I need to share this: The writing program I'm in is the Book Project through Lighthouse Writers in Denver. You don't need to live in Denver to participate. The Book Project isn't an MFA … Continue reading On writing programs and pen names…
In which the writer is plagued by the supernatural
I don't believe in magical thinking, and yet I find myself being careful what I say, in case my words somehow change the course of the physical or metaphysical world. I suppose that means that there's a disconnect between what I think I should believe, and what I fear - I know I'm supposed to … Continue reading In which the writer is plagued by the supernatural
Mental Wanderings: Art, Nature, Life 