Triggering Town

I remember going to the Richard Hugo House on Capitol Hill. Up the cement steps, in the big door, it really was a house, with carpeting and easy chairs and a bulletin board. I was looking for directions on how to be a writer. As if that could be put onto a notecard, posted with the contests and workshops. Now, 300 moons later, I finally got around to reading The Triggering Town. These are the pages that should have been turned into shingles and nailed all over that big rain-colored house in Seattle.