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Colleen McWilliams
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Sometimes I Write
I have debated for some time about whether or not I should take yet another leap and post some of my own writing which has nothing to do with reading - my first love.  They are meager offerings but done with the focus that sometimes comes to me and as a res...

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Back to Admiration
Geoff Dyer is my man. 
For now at least.  Every once in a while, a writer comes along that pulls me
into his, or her, orbit.  The tug is
irresistible.  The one-sided relationship
is either serendipitous or in this case, a casual introduction.   As before, t...

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Historical Fiction
This is my first attempt at
literary criticism where I've not written with a sense of intense admiration for my subjects.  I must ask myself why I've jumped in the deep end of the pool with little swimming ability.  I hope to stay afloat. ‘Z’ by Therese Ann...

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An Acknowledgement
Three posts after my hesitant foray into the world of
blogging, I feel it is time to thank my friend Devorah Peterson for her
support, encouragement and general nudging me towards what can be an uncertain endeavor, but ultimately provides
deeper meaning to ...

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Gustave Flaubert Loving books so much has put me in
a quandary. The desire to read more extensively has become a dilemma. 
‘What a dilemma!’ you might think, but believe me wanting to tie up the loose
ends and to finish the complete oeuvre of writers long d...

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Akin to Love
    ‘If the words are flowing, this is a good thing’.  So says
Zadie Smith, a talented British writer who has propelled me here to this page
with the hopes that she’s right.  If the words are not flowing but the
heart is racing will this do? It’s not always...

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A Portrait of Awe
   Today, Vladimir Nabokov, is for you. This morning I approached my
library with caution, trying to ease in to inspiration, eyes scanning the
spines of my friends and loved ones.  Would a muse be among them
today?  Uncertainty rattled me.  How to choose am...
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