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Jill’s Blog on the Huffington Post

• The Perfume Collector
  Kathleen Tessaro's new novel, The Perfume Collector (Harper), is a mystery, a journey, which takes us from Paris in 1955, to spring in London the same year. Then we're in New York, and it's 1927! We visit Monte Carlo, England, and ah, back to Paris. […]
• Yesterdays
  If you're thinking people are crazy, minds jammed up as the 405 going nowhere but backwards, where are the miracles?... […]
• Here Now: The Actor's Gang's Heart of Darkness
  The essence of theatre is wonder. The Actor's Gang understands this. And so does Brian T. Finney, the actor who performs his own stunning one-man adaptation of the Heart of Darkness, at the Ivy Substation Theatre in Culver City. […]
• The L.A. Marathon
  "The marathon changes your life forever. Once you cross that finish line your spirit changes forever." Like all great spiritual healing programs, this has less to do with the winning; the gift is knowing you can DO this. […]
• Lead Ins
  "Want a light?" used to be the start up line with a stranger who had a look you liked. In a waiting room; in the seat next to you somewhere. Or standing in a line. Lines are longer now. […]
• Rewriting
  Rwriting can be a festival of surprises. As a book slims down it often opens up, revealing a direct storyline you didn't see. But how would you, you're just the writer. […]
• The Spaghetti
  The Last Book Store writers group decided a Sunday ago (or so) that instead of bringing three pages of our books or poetry... […]
• Slam
  The Slam, then, is one of these new worlds where we meet together; hear each other in real time, real life. There's more, all around, and I'll be there, like listening, like learning. […]
• Lincoln
  Just as I've been brooding about theatre and what it does that film cannot, I went to see Lincoln for the second time. There... […]
• About Freud's Last Session
  This really is about this riveting play. (I'll get there) But this is also about NOT writing. And my father. Dr. Freud would see the connections. […]
• Happy New Year -- The Pool's Open
  When I swim I don't count laps. What I do here instead of 'laps' is pick a letter in the alphabet and let that letter lead me to a word. Then I'll swim along to thoughts about words beginning with that letter […]
• Hands Up
  I tell new writers. "When you're grief stricken, shocked all words have fled, just pick up an object at hand, something manageable you haven't noticed -- describe it. Words will creep by." […]