So I find myself thinking about all the “Never Books”, the books I will never write, not because of stagnation, but because for any given project I have to draw the line somewhere and finish it. There are infinite variations of any book I might write, given enough time to ruminate and to appropriate any and everything that captures my attention, stirs my devotion, or inspires my revolt. Truly, what would UTMC become if I gave it another twenty years?
Category: Writing
Cultural Appropriation and the Writing of Other People’s Trauma
In Until the Monsters Come, I borrow from first-hand accounts of the Stolen Generations of Indigenous Australians. As I’ve continued writing, however, I’ve gotten to thinking about cultural appropriation…