1. Sometimes I begin writing by quoting song lyrics, like the ones in my head right now: Disarm you with a smile. I quit/I give up/Nothing's good enough for anybody else/It seems.
2. I'm listening to the audiobook of Lauren Graham's TALKING AS FAST AS I CAN, which advocates her mentor's "kitchen timer" method for writing, which reminds me that my beautiful bright orange French kitchen timer from Anthropologie (Treat.Yo. Self.) was broken not once but twice, now irreparably, by the 3 dudes in my house.*
3. It's way over six minutes, what with the asterisk paragraph below.
4. My children want to go to the store Five Below, which is a dollar store on a mild dose of steroids, and buy everything they see; consequently, we do not go to Five Below.
5. My new gym has a little free library.
6. If I get to half of the writing projects I'm thinking about this year, I will be really, really happy.
*Yeah, I know my phone has a timer, but when I'm writing (and other times, really), I want to throw my phone in the river. And my microwave has a timer. I would never throw it in the river. It's attached to the wall, for one thing. Yeah, I know I can buy another beautiful bright orange timer. But how much treating oneself can one actually manage?
Friday, January 13, 2017
Tuesday, January 3, 2017
Tuesday, November 29, 2016
Sunday, November 6, 2016
Wednesday, October 19, 2016
Wednesday, September 21, 2016
Indy Literary Pub Crawl on Saturday!
Purchase tickets to the crawl here: http://www.indyliterarypubcrawl.com/
Thursday, September 1, 2016
Goodreads Giveaway!
To celebrate the
audiobook release of TRIP THROUGH YOUR WIRES, enter to win a prize pack
that includes a signed paperback of the novel, an Audible.com code for
the audiobook, and a souvenir.
Monday, August 29, 2016
Wednesday, August 24, 2016
Sunday, May 1, 2016
Ten things I found while searching for the mean postcard from a famous priest*
1. A box of journals I chose not to open, because THAR BE WORMS, MATEY, in that thar can. Ain't got time for worms tonight.
2. An article for a news writing class, covering campus reaction to the O.J. Simpson verdict in 1995. I included a quote in which one student called the trial "a fucking farce," because college. Glaring error: I didn't use Nicole's last name on first reference.
3. Grades for the library science classes I took while trying to find a path, post-college. Books, yes, but not as a librarian. Solid A- Library Science student, what what.
4. A printed email conversation with my dear friend, following my rejection from an MFA program, with the subject line: YOU ARE ACCEPTED. I'd also written her with my mother's comment about the form letter rejection: "You'd think a creative writing program could come up with something a little more creative!"
5. A piece of writing for a class in undergrad, with the following line: "As a teenager, I was too uncomfortable with myself to allow others to be comfortable with me." That seems insightful for that time in my life.
6. Black and white photos I took for a community college photography class, while trying to figure out my path. My baby-faced husband, working at his desk with a pencil behind one ear. My sister with her ex. Two teenage boys in hoodies on the back of a park bench, on a freezing Syracuse night, who said "Sure," when I asked to take their photo.
7. A rather snide reference to a band I was (favorably) reviewing for the campus magazine, calling them "a bunch of middle-aged men from Ohio." Let the record show that even though I was trying to say the band really WAS cool, this now-middle-aged woman from Indiana is mortified.
8. Several pieces of writing that repeat the same thought: I want to write books. I want to write things that matter to people. I don't want to exist without leaving something behind.
9. Short stories I scarcely remember, which were my first attempts at writing fiction. They are simultaneously terrible and not that bad, as things can sometimes be.
10. A binder full of instruction sheets from line dancing class, which I signed up for while trying to figure out my path. Kick-ball-change, kick-ball-change. It's a path, of sorts. Keep moving: sometimes backward, sometimes sideways, and sometimes, when the steps line up right, forward.
*It was a Berrigan. I'm not sure which one. I read about Daniel Berrigan's death and went looking for the postcard. One of the Berrigans -- more than likely Jerry, who lived in Syracuse -- took issue with an article I'd written for The Post-Standard. I'm not sure which article. And probably the postcard wasn't mean but critical, and potentially educative. But when you are 23? Well. I hope I find the postcard. I'll read it objectively after almost twenty years, and many, many writing critiques.
2. An article for a news writing class, covering campus reaction to the O.J. Simpson verdict in 1995. I included a quote in which one student called the trial "a fucking farce," because college. Glaring error: I didn't use Nicole's last name on first reference.
3. Grades for the library science classes I took while trying to find a path, post-college. Books, yes, but not as a librarian. Solid A- Library Science student, what what.
4. A printed email conversation with my dear friend, following my rejection from an MFA program, with the subject line: YOU ARE ACCEPTED. I'd also written her with my mother's comment about the form letter rejection: "You'd think a creative writing program could come up with something a little more creative!"
5. A piece of writing for a class in undergrad, with the following line: "As a teenager, I was too uncomfortable with myself to allow others to be comfortable with me." That seems insightful for that time in my life.
6. Black and white photos I took for a community college photography class, while trying to figure out my path. My baby-faced husband, working at his desk with a pencil behind one ear. My sister with her ex. Two teenage boys in hoodies on the back of a park bench, on a freezing Syracuse night, who said "Sure," when I asked to take their photo.
7. A rather snide reference to a band I was (favorably) reviewing for the campus magazine, calling them "a bunch of middle-aged men from Ohio." Let the record show that even though I was trying to say the band really WAS cool, this now-middle-aged woman from Indiana is mortified.
8. Several pieces of writing that repeat the same thought: I want to write books. I want to write things that matter to people. I don't want to exist without leaving something behind.
9. Short stories I scarcely remember, which were my first attempts at writing fiction. They are simultaneously terrible and not that bad, as things can sometimes be.
10. A binder full of instruction sheets from line dancing class, which I signed up for while trying to figure out my path. Kick-ball-change, kick-ball-change. It's a path, of sorts. Keep moving: sometimes backward, sometimes sideways, and sometimes, when the steps line up right, forward.
*It was a Berrigan. I'm not sure which one. I read about Daniel Berrigan's death and went looking for the postcard. One of the Berrigans -- more than likely Jerry, who lived in Syracuse -- took issue with an article I'd written for The Post-Standard. I'm not sure which article. And probably the postcard wasn't mean but critical, and potentially educative. But when you are 23? Well. I hope I find the postcard. I'll read it objectively after almost twenty years, and many, many writing critiques.
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