Blog | Sonja Roberts on Books & the Writing Life

February 27, 2022

I focus on the trail, avoiding the slippery spots, using my outstretched hand rather than my face to break through the cobwebs. A sound…

January 24, 2022

Her face when she learned how she would die. The girl I was unkind to. The contract I didn’t sign. The sound of his…

December 12, 2021

When I was younger, the phrase “you never know when it might be your last” brought to mind images of sudden, unexpected death…

November 30, 2021

The heavy wooden door groans open, ushering in a gust of cold air and two women of similar build. Closer inspection suggests they…

October 26, 2021

Confession: I don’t like my dog. I know you may not like me after reading this. I’m not sure if I like…

September 22, 2021

I got the yellow. The brown and the avocado are at camp. The red one, which I always thought was orange, is still…

September 1, 2021

There’s something to be said for leaving well-enough alone. Six months after our beloved Gatsby had passed, six months into the pandemic, six months…

July 23, 2021

We didn’t know what to expect; how long he would last. As Gatsby reached eight years old, we started holding our breaths. The…

July 4, 2021

She knew it would happen, eventually. She’d held her breath for years, before and after the telling, waiting for the pillars to crumble. There…

June 23, 2021

How do you apologize to a dog for the rough years? The years when you’ve started a family, you’re working full time, you’re exhausted,…

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