So much of my writing has been in Santa Fe lately, as if seated in this old Santa Fe garden.
images: Christie B. Cochrell
poetry&prose
creative ramblings & reverie
So much of my writing has been in Santa Fe lately, as if seated in this old Santa Fe garden.
images: Christie B. Cochrell
For much of my writing life I've been working on various versions of the stranger-than-fiction story of the theft of La Conquistadora* that took place in Santa Fe the spring of my senior year of high school (with an actual connection to our school and class, as it turned out)—an event which rather shook the town. My most recent version, now at "novelette" length, has just been published by Eclectica Magazine. It's been fun to spend time in Santa Fe as it was then, performing conjuring tricks with restaurants etc. which have since ceased to exist, and with devices, songs, and objects which have only afterwards come into being.
* "the oldest continuously venerated image of the Virgin Mary in the U.S., which arrived in Santa Fe on a wagon train in 1626"
See also La Conquistadora (Version One)
and La Conquistadora (Version Two), Beginnings
and Statues, my first novel, somewhere here in my writing archive.
images: Fiesta de Santa Fe
I'm happy to report that the first three of my stories published by Catamaran, "Vagaries," "Hearing Loss," and "Moroccan Spices," are now all available online in their fiction archive.
image: Claude Monet, Sailboats on the Seine at Gennevilliers
James Merrill wrote in his memoir, A Different Person (1993), about visiting a doctor about his depression, saying that he didn't know how to live or how to love, he just knew how to write a poem. The doctor, he said, "listened closely, then acted with undreamed-of kindness and dispatch. 'Come with me,' he said, in a flash ushering me out of his downtown office and onto the back seat of a smart little pale-green motorscooter. I put my arms, as instructed, about his stout, gray-suited person, and off we went in sunlight, through traffic, under trees, past architecture, over the muddy river to lunch." (The Writer’s Almanac, 3/3/3)Our hope is that this collection of writing will give readers the same je ne sais quois that brief but immense lunchtime voyage gave us—encouragement for going on; inspiration to do something simply good for ourselves each ordinary day; a smile; a moment of respite or recognition; time out from global numbing; a pause for weirdness, wonder, and delight. We want to share what gives us pleasure or some keener satisfaction putting down as well as picking up.