So I’m at this retirement party for these two guys my husband used to work with and I’m talking to this woman–another former co-worker of my husband, but also a friend of mine–who mentions she read (at least started to read) the original story I tried drafting in real-time on

Summer, my thirties, the pears I canned last year…so many cool things on the verge of being gone forever.

Stupid finite human reality. I hate it.

Now I have regrets…like  I should have blogged during August (I’m a slacker). Should’ve made more of myself during the decade of my thirties. I should have savored

Of course I couldn’t officially attend Tin House’s writing extravaganza this past week—it’s like $1,100. And of course I’ve been plotting for months to go anyway.

The thing is, I’ve been to enough of these writing confabs to know they’re a bit like weddings. Everybody’s slightly drunk and blissed-out and wouldn’t know if you’re a

My ridiculous hair.

I need to cut my hair off. It’s long and heavy and ridiculous.

But I don’t want to. Maybe long hair reminds me of being young…

That’s the problem, see? I’m NOT young. I’m on the verge of forty, and the locks need to go before I “cross

Offline. What a weird concept. It didn’t even exist back in the eighties when the most we could do to “disconnect” was take the phone off the hook.

Which I never did.

That was back when I was the social version of myself.

Now I’m more a hermit version, but I still can’t

I just read my last post about creating quirky characters and groaned. Out loud. And made that hideous pig-snorting face reserved for people who have just done something stupid.

What kind of an idiot makes herself into a cutsie fake character on a blog? To make matters worse, I read this

That’s what it feels like, this writing insanity: exposing yourself, then begging people to distribute the evidence.

The recent news that I’ve actually had my work accepted by a journal is bittersweet.

I’m completely neurotic about what my bio should say, my head shot, if my mother will disown me for the

I got home late last night from a super rad evening of music and spoken word (thanks Gray Skies Reading Series) and noticed a sour, gross smell in my office as I was checking my email. I thought maybe it was my own sweat I was smelling, which has a

I made the transition from working 40+ hours a week as an executive manager in a public agency to becoming a full-time writer and graduate student over a period of several years.

Joining or starting a writing group can provide focus, direction, and writing support. Also deadlines help motive

I’m taking a break from the hideous story I’ve been posting so I can capture what it’s been like to write like an insane killer: serially. Okay, that’s dramatic.

But writing a story in chunks and putting those drafty chunks out there for others to inspect feels as if I’m barfing on