Prior to 2010 I never wanted to narrate stories with my own voice, never felt the need to write down the landscapes of my childhood.

Now even the most far-fetched fiction — whether I am reading or writing it — pushes me down dirt roads, across wooden bridges, walks me barefoot toward creek beds where noon is dark and mystifying. Frog song plays a nonstop soundtrack, and the air is a damp blanket around my shoulders.

Essay possesses few boundaries, and what boundaries exist can blur in the most lovely of ways. I have written a lot of personal essay, memoir, and other creative nonfiction since the summer of 2010. Eventually, I might share some here.