Sure, it makes us feel smart when we’ve finished deciphering a page of Aristotle, but when we’re unwinding after a day of work we prefer revel in a bit of fluff teevee and a trashy novel. Yes, it’s candy, but that’s not all–there’s something in it we need. Because when we’re sitting before our Fox TV show, or knuckles deep in a Laurell K. Hamilton novel, we’re not just thinking, we’re imagining. We’re engaging a wholly different part of ourselves, and it feels good.

Websites owe their visitors a common courtesy: to speak to them as elegantly and clearly as possible. And if a tongue-tied website lacks the ability to do that on its own, well, that’s where I come in.

It’s funny how quickly priorities can change.
I’ve been a writer my entire life. When I was a little girl, my mother used to send me and my brother to our grandmother’s house outside of Cleveland for the summer. It was a much anticipated trip, as going away to grandma’s was like going away to another […]

We, the writers, the artists, those of us that create ideas and instill them in our culture, have a moral obligation to provide free culture, to wrest control of what we read, view, and consume from corporations and government and provide it ourselves, for ourselves. We have the obligation to make the fundamentals of our culture—our literature, music, film, art—accessible and readily available to those who want to touch it, absorb it, learn from it.

A blinking OPEN sign is just as bad as an article written in “stop motion” writing. Design should make my life easier. I should be able to get my donuts and read an article thanks to design, not despite it.