Alison Luterman
Alison Luterman is busy practicing descending minor thirds, going to qigong, and teaching creative-writing classes. She lives in Oakland, California, where there’s a taco truck at the foot of her street.
Prodigal Daughter
Makendra trailed loss and mess and catastrophe the way Halley’s comet trails a cloudy veil of ice and gas. She was dark-skinned and lovely, with finely arched eyebrows and sharp cheekbones. She could have been a fashion model if not for the birthmark that covered one side of her face like a pale pink shadow.
January 2004The Secret Of My Success
For me, the answer to the question “When do you write?” is easy: I write when I’m avoiding some other important task.
November 2003The Happiness Box
While they visited, that invisible beast Loneliness would shift on his paws and pad quietly out of the room, only to return faithfully when darkness fell and I crawled into a bed that was too big. Lucky for me, the kids always stayed as long as possible. Norah, especially, hated to leave. She’d cling to my hand or my neck with the ferocity of the early-abandoned.
March 2002The Empty Sky
Reflections On 09.11.01
The Sun doesn’t usually report on current events, but September’s terrorist attacks in New York City and Washington, D.C. marked a turning point for all of us. We put out a call to our writers, inviting them to reflect on the tragedy and its aftermath. The response was overwhelming. As word got around, we received submissions not only from regular contributors but from writers who are new to The Sun’s pages.
November 2001
Has something we published moved you? Fired you up? Did we miss the mark? We’d love to hear about it.
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