Mark Stevens latest title is a finalist for the 2015 Colorado Book Award It’s impossible to read Trapline, Mark Stevens’ third book in the Allison Coil mystery series, and not be ensnared. Trapline is more than just a carefully wrought murder mystery—it’s also an unflinching...
When you live in a ski town, the amount of time your inner thighs spend bare and exposed to sun is almost zero. ALMOST zero. Occasionally you spend an off-season or a week on a surf trip to the beach, meaning you’re going to be...
Twenty years ago, when I moved to Telluride, my first job on the ski area was as a lift operator, bumping chairs. I did it because the job came with a ski pass. I didn’t realize the real fringe benefit: Watching people get on and...
Okay, full disclosure: I used to be that person, the one who cringed when the airplane seat next to me was occupied by an infant. The waitress who was unhappy when families and the ensuing mess were seated in her section. The diner at a...
I’ve never really been a fan of Santa Claus, or even Christmas. I was pretty young when I caught my parents in what I deemed to be not just a lie, but a whopper of epic proportions. A man in a red suit living at...
Thanksgiving is the time of year that I try to take stock of how fortunate I am, and spend a few days on reflection and gratitude before the holidays devolve into the chaotic frenzy of consumerism. And even though I’ve got a comprehensive list of...
I don't watch TV much. I don't really watch TV at all—we don't have a cable or satellite account, so the only programs I see are on the iPad, the occasional series that was popular enough to replay on Netflix or YouTube snippets of Jon...
Great films, like all great art forms, are those that affect you deeply—whether it’s the lyrics that you can’t get out of your head, the painting you can’t stop staring at, the characters that stay with you long after you’ve finished a novel, or the...
A long time ago, when I was twenty-something and at the apex of my carefree partying lifestyle, I was shocked to learn that an older friend of mine—a mother of two—smoked pot. “But, you’re a mom!” I said. “How do you think I can play Candyland...
I drop her off, and it’s the same scene every day of the first week. All the other kids sit down in their seats quietly, excited about kindergarten. Not her. She is wailing, and hanging onto my leg, telling me I can’t leave. Please Mom,...
