Archived entries for Kelly Foster

On Plumber’s Block, Part II

By Kelly Foster Lundquist

Yesterday, I asked a question that I will now attempt to answer. That question was: Are writers truly alone when they enter their private writing spaces? Continue Reading …

On Plumber’s Block, Part I

By Kelly Foster Lundquist

Sound familiar, writers and artists? Continue Reading …

To Remember What I Forgot

By Kelly Foster

When I moved to Boston, I moved into a house with six musicians and two visual artists. My friend Chad had a lathe in the basement and a small sculptor’s studio. My friend Kate kept the top floor filled with sketches. Continue Reading …

Reckoning the Marvelous

By Kelly Foster

I wouldn’t call myself a pessimist, but I often focus on and assume the worst possible outcomes in life, because I think that keeps me aware and safe. Of course, it doesn’t keep me either safe or particularly aware… Continue Reading …

Gilgamesh and Me

By Kelly Foster

In spite of good and even fortuitous events in my recent life, it’s been harder than usual for me not to nourish a similar sense of despair and defeat, not just about myself, but about the state of the world. Continue Reading …

Food People

By Kelly Foster

There are people who love to eat food, people who love to make food, and people who love to talk about food. I am all three of those people. I think there’s something in the primordial recesses of my Southern-ness that partially contributes to this. Continue Reading …

Global Neighbors

By Kelly Foster

When we read, we encounter people throughout the millennia who have despaired as we have, loved as we have, feared as we have, dreamed as we have, and so on. The same holds true for travel, I believe, if we are attentive and humble and receptive. Continue Reading …

And All Shall Be Well

By Kelly Foster

The first paper I wrote in graduate school didn’t really work as an academic argument. I was trying to claim something about domestic imagery in the writing of Julian of Norwich, but even after months of attempting to formulate a thesis that worked, I just couldn’t wrangle a coherent meaning out of it. Continue Reading …

Mississippi Blues

By Kelly Foster

I’ve never really thought to see if any other Mississippians feel this way, but whenever anyone not from here criticizes the South in general or Mississippi in particular, I tend to become not so much defensive as rabid and accusatory. Continue Reading …

At the Grave We Make our Song

By Kelly Foster

I have had three or four truly excellent teachers in my life—teachers who not only made lights come on for me, but who challenged and pushed me so far beyond boundaries that were previously comfortable that I was never able to return. Continue Reading …



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