- By Abby MacGregor
“My father calls in tears to tell me that two burly paramedics have just wrestled my mother to the ground, strapped her into a straitjacket, and forced her inside an ambulance. I am, in this moment, on a meditation retreat. Never in my life have I gone on a meditation retreat. And never since.” —from Marigold, Spring 2018 (Vol. 60, Issue 1)
Tell us about one of the first pieces you wrote.
The first piece I ever wrote was an unfinished novel, when I was nine. I taught myself to touch type on my mother’s electric typewriter, then decided I would compose a novel on that magical mystical machine. I remember the tingle of excitement as I tapped the words. The manuscript proceeded dramatically, though...