Like most Americans, I dutifully spent Turkey Day in full consumption mode. I ate more turkey and potatoes and stuffing than I had capacity to digest and so, spent the next day combating killer heartburn and indigestion. Feeling like an idiot. I did put the hurt on the TUMS, though,

I promised fellow bloggers Maggie at Fly Away Home and Aubrey at Write Aubrey Write that I would participate in the author tagging game called the Look Challenge. The game’s for bloggers who are also writers and is a way to let others sneak a peek at your work.

Here’s how it works: Search your manuscript for

The Syrup Store in downtown Johnson.

About an hour drive from Burlington is the tiny town of Johnson, Vermont. Notable features include a wool store, Lovin’ Cup Cafe, a syrup store, a college, and the Vermont Studio Center (VSC). If you’re a writer or artist interested in doing a

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

So it’s my last day at the Vermont Studio Center in Johnson, Vermont, and I’m already sad. And sappy.

I’ve met the most amazing artists from all over the world, and I hate leaving them.

Did I get a ton of writing done, not really. But, oh! What an experience.

I met Ron

Usually I give it up for free. Now I feel used and I haven’t even held the check in my hand, just a contract promising me $250. (I hear that’s good money for what I just did.)

Yeah, that’s right. I sold a piece of myself…A piece of writing.

I thought it would

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

When I was a kid we lived near a Bible Camp where I went to camp most summers. Aside from kissing boys and buying candy and falling in “kid love,” my most vivid memory is sleeping in a covered wagon at a camp called “Wagon Train.”

Instead of cabins, we slept

My friend Carrie Mesrobian is getting ready to have her first novel published. With a real publisher and everything. The book is YA and is going to be rad and she’s gonna be famous and all that.

So yesterday, Carrie mentioned that she still doesn’t have a title for said forthcoming novel,

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