Momentum, in literary mosaic, derives not from narrative but from the subtle, progressive buildup of thematic resonances.

Thomas Jefferson went through the New Testament and removed all the miracles, leaving only the teachings. Take a source, extract what appeals to you, discard the rest. Such an act of editorship is bound to reflect something of the individual doing the editing: a plaster cast of an aesthetic-not the actual thing, but the imprint of it.

The absence of plot leaves the reader room to think about other things.

In my own little way, I feel like I'm part of a group of writers who care deeply about pushing the essay forward.

I'm wonderfully self-lacerating, probably to my character's detriment. I'm terribly open to critique.

To me, the moment you're talking about nonfiction you're talking about reality.

Nonfiction, qua label, is nothing more or less than a very flexible (easily breakable) frame that allows you to pull the thing away from narrative and toward contemplation, which is all I've ever wanted.