C. Van Swades

Every time I finally sit down to write, I become the default everything in my house. “Mom, I forgot to tell you…” “Mom, do you know where…?”, “Mom, I haven’t been pet in like the last three minutes…” It’s a chorus of Mom, Mom, Mom… I am blessed to be the default. I am truly glad they come to me for all the things, and they typically don’t just barge in. They patiently wait for me to pause so that I can finish my thought (except the dogs, of course— they couldn’t care less a

I am the first to admit it: I’m a clothing hoarder. I’ve cycled through many sizes over the years and I can’t bring myself to toss what I might need again. When that day comes, I refuse to be ill-prepared—no matter what the scale says. This is a recurring motif of mine: the urge to feel prepared; to control the narrative of my life. I usually have an overstocked fridge, bursting pantry, and gas tank that rarely dips below a third. It's not about excess wealth; it’s a defense

Photography by Tammy Zelez Photography I tell my kids this all the time. I want them to try things and not be afraid— or, if they are, to do it anyway. And to sound even more cliché, growth is uncomfortable, so if they want to grow, they have to be uncomfortable. I love it when they say their brains hurt; it means they are attempting something difficult and truly growing. So, I am trying something new. I had no idea how to write a novel, and even fewer ideas on how to publis