This spring, I worked with NPR’s Digital Arts team as an intern, and was responsible for web builds — such as the ones linked below — on a daily basis. I wrote headlines, teasers and sub heds, transcribed interviews and selected highlights, adapted radio scripts into copy for the web, chose pull quotes and art, wrote captions, embedded videos and links and curated supplementary content. For John Baldessari, Conceptual Art Means Serious Mischief by Susan Stamberg, March 11, 2013 A Young […]
More and more writers are setting their novels and short stories in worlds, not unlike our own, where the Earth’s systems are noticeably off-kilter. The genre has come to be called climate fiction — “cli-fi,” for short. For NPR’s Weekend Edition Saturday. To stream the story, click here.
Milagros Dormida, 2008, by Katrina d’Autremont. From Si Dios Quiere. Archival Inkjet Print. “Like discovering in a dream that your house has a room that you didn’t know existed, I had thumbed a new fold in my unconscious, a place where I kneaded my waking life into strange shapes, watched plausible circumstances flicker into impossible, terrifying scenarios.” For The Fuschia Tree, Issue 22, Coincidence: Fortune’s Strange Math. Click here to read the essay.
Poets are not the world’s most visible celebrities. But an exhibit at the National Portrait Gallery in Washington, D.C., puts faces to verse, and explores poets’ shifting — and sometimes conflicting — public images. With Camila Domonoske for NPR.org.
“Before he became a founder of realism and an unlikely literary sex icon (‘Do not suppose,’ an Italian count wrote to his wife, ‘that the ugliness of his face will protect you from his irresistible power’), the young Balzac was proofreading legal filings.” For NPR’s Monkey See blog. To read the post, click here.
For This American Life. I spend five mornings recording my boyfriend’s valiant efforts to get out of bed when his alarm goes off. The tape appears in Act Six of the episode “This Week.”
For KLCC Eugene. A recent community dinner in Eugene, Oregon provided hot meals and warm clothes for more than 2,000 people. One group was giving away something little less tangible — and a lot more permanent. .
. “Hamlet takes his coffee black. Claudius stalks the salad bar. Polonius can rarely resist dessert. One day, while serving Ophelia her soup, I watch with horror as a few drops of roasted tomato land on the table in front of her, like gobs of blood. She smiles; she doesn’t seem to mind.“ For Middlebury Magazine.