It is always useful to discuss your writing blocks with your children. They know how to knock down, restack, find a new...
For the last several weeks, we have been pleased to partner with the Englewood Review of Books to bring you some fine...
For the next several weeks, we are pleased to partner with the Englewood Review of Books to bring you some fine book...
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Last year at SXSW Interactive, I was listening to some of my favorite social media gurus share stories of their technical success. The guys from CommonCraft were there, for instance, some of the...
The editorial staff here at TheHighCalling.org often asks me, “Where are we headed next? What are our goals?” I usually reply, “World...
Thanks to so many people who took up our Christmas in Verse invitation, posting something small to capture the "big things of Christmas."
This morning I told Michelle DeRusha I was glad she included the Stargazer lilies in her post. Their presence communicated something poignant and deep about her wider experience of grief and loss. ...
David Wheeler is a musician, essayist and now a published poet. His Contingency Plans: Poems was published last month by T.S. Poetry...
"I want to be a poet," I said to the air.
Hard work that, if done well, might ease another's tired soul—not solve anything necessarily, but perhaps unravel, unbind.
Fifty-four days until Christmas! Here at The High Calling we want to help you fill the stockings of all folks bookish on your list. This week we’re offering recommendations for your poetry lover…or...
She had me with the story of the pink dress. The pink dress for a child she had never met—a child she had prayed for, dreamed for, and wondered about. A child named...
If I told you I read a book about Wilbur and Orville Wright and then built a new kind of flying machine, would you believe me? Would you go flying with me? Probably...
Bad Blake is my favorite Hollywood pilgrim of 2010. When I first met him through a RedBox-acquired DVD of Crazy Heart, I didn’t see a pilgrim at all. Blake just smoked, chased and...
I sit in the car, waiting for my girls. They're practicing for an October production of the opera Tosca. The sun is warm on my knee and crickets trill in nearby woods. I...
The words of my youth were simple words. They were good words, functional words, words with concrete meaning. Even the bedtime stories my mother told us had an obvious purpose. ...
This morning I sat out back and read the final chapters of The Right to Write: An Invitation and Initiation into the Writing Life. My son joined me on the deck with his...
