There were three of us standing around, after a meeting, chatting. Making small talk, about the elections, work, kids. One of the somebodies brought up my blog, commented they read something I wrote and really, really liked it (which I can never hear too much of). She then asked what I’m working on now. “Oh, I dunno. I’m trying to figure out what I want to do, and how to do
What do you write? This week in writing
This week has been very productive for banging the keyboard. Not pay wise, but advocacy wise. Does it make a difference? I like to think so, and doing nothing is not an option. Everybody’s a writer, but not everyone writes what others want to read, you know, on the beach. Or a long flight. Or waiting in line at parent pick-up. This week, for example, I put pen to paper,
You can’t win if you don’t play: I won something
Check me out: I’ve been a woman with a mission, checking goals off my to-do list, entering contests, submitting stories, doing what needs to be done as a writer with bills to pay, people to see, and places to go. I send away, then check things off my list like it’s Taquitos and toilet paper at Costco, vowing to throw spaghetti at the walls until something of mine sticks. It stuck. Apparently, I have a voice. Actually, a Voice of
Authors discuss if blogging is real writing and my head explodes
Twice, (okay, maybe three or four times) recently I have been insulted to the level of despair, which is in part, why I got my blogging ass to a BinderCon NYC (a serious writing conference for women and non-males), and why I committed to doing #NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month) to post one blog a day for 30 days of November (this is #5). Here’s how one such insult went
Vaguebook to a writer’s rescue
Been struggling a bit with the writing. My writing. To do or not to do. Not with content, this is not writer’s block. I’ve got content believe me: everywhere I look life is screaming to be heard, stories aching to be told. Laughed at. Exposed. Teased, tormented, loved, shared. Told.
When one door closes, another opens!
As you know, I was denied, yet again, from Listen To Your Mother. This time in Boston. However as part of my ‘try, try and try again‘ resolutions for the new and improved me, I submitted my story to The Good Men Project where it happily found a home. The editor did ask me to re-record the video, without all the boo-hooing about being rejected. Please stop by and take a peak at
A Blog Grows Up: The Big Switcharoo Begins
Recently, when at my downtown (Panera) office, I met a prospective client. It happens often: I’m starved for human contact, so I leave the lonely work-at-home abyss, and end up getting more work from Panera than I ever do on LinkedIn. A quick intro from a soccer dad, swim mom – and waa-laa! “So, where can I see your stuff? What you’ve written? Where can I find you?” Well, right here
Phil Donahue & Erma Bombeck Saved My Writing Soul
I went to Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop desperately seeking my funny. When you’re surrounded by 300+ women writers and a handful of men all of whom are genetically talented, it has the distinct possibility to leave you crying in the bathroom. Forever alone. A girl and her cellphone. And a quite possibly a cocktail. The Erma groupies were more than a little intimidating: books and columns and syndication and by-lines. Comics and screenplays and blogs and