[The suspense is growing. Did Ella make the wrong move? She’s happy in her new home for now and meets Dave, a friendly downstairs neighbor. She shares her suspicions about the tenant next door.] Sometimes, Dave and I would meet … Continue reading Building a Horror Story, “Only Regrets”
[The last two installments described Ella’s decision to uproot herself from friends and move into a calm city neighborhood] At the start of week two, settled with a mug of herbal tea into my cozy armchair now in the living-dining room, … Continue reading Only Regrets 2.0
Pico Iyer–journalist, essayist, unintentional (?) philosopher–quotes several thinkers in his book Autumn Light, an exploration of losses and other turning points in his life. Referring to Thomas Merton’s ‘Fire Sermon’ in response to death or estrangement among family and friends, he says life itself is a burning house. To what then can we cling? Merton’s answer: “Only the certainty that nothing will go according to design; our hopes are newly built wooden houses, sturdy until someone drops a cigarette or match.” An appropriate reference in the context of his return trip to his alternate home in Nara, Japan, where fires … Continue reading On Walks Through Autumns
[In my last post, Ella was looking for a new home. She wanted to leave her anonymous life in a downtown high-rise. She found a reasonably priced and attractive apartment in a city neighborhood and signed a two-year lease for … Continue reading Only Regrets 1.5
It didn’t take long for me to regret signing the lease. My old neighbors scolded me for acting impulsively, but I couldn’t resist the new apartment’s location—close to a lakeshore park, a short walk to a Marino’s, and a block … Continue reading Only Regrets 1.0
As a puppeteer I’d been telling stories to young audiences at private parties, schools, and other venues for many years, but performing as an entertainer was wearing on me. I wanted to stretch myself, create work that would appeal to … Continue reading The Sixth Sense of a Story
From a series of essays on my life in puppetry Puppetry is an art form and I wanted to perfect it. I knew I would never perform in public unless I trained with a professional. I found Hans Schmidt who … Continue reading “I Know How You Did That!”
“Hello, Susan Marcus? “Yes, who’s calling, please?” “This is Karen Smith. [name changed to protect myself!] You’re the puppet lady?” “(Clears throat) Yes, I am a puppeteer.” “And you do birthday parties?” “All the time, but I’m booked up for … Continue reading A Bizarre Birthday Bash
After an hours-long drive out of Athens, we reached the mountains. Parnassus came into view. Our ears popped with the change of altitude. We passed through a jarringly Nordic ski village, Arachova, before ascending higher on the sacred mountain, until a line of tour buses alerted us to our arrival at the Temple of Apollo’s complex where its priestess, the Delphic Oracle once moved men to make decisions, sometimes disastrous ones. A layer of blueish-gray clouds hung overhead, obscuring the sun and chilling the air. I zipped up my raincoat and shivered. With the sheer face of a mountain behind … Continue reading Dallying in Delphi
Recently, a reader asked about my writing process, especially the way I prepare to write. That person felt at a loss about plunging in during, say, those first 15 minutes sitting in front of the computer and before typing an opening … Continue reading The First Fifteen Minutes
Susan Bass Marcus Writes 