My straw girl wants a cat. She’d have one if not for me. Never mind that she didn’t have a cat for eight years before me. I’m positive she’d have a cat. I’m allergic to cats. I’m the only thing keeping her from getting a cat. My straw girl says she wants to keep her […]
A Straw Girl Gets Dumped Read More »
I’m not good enough. That’s the tamest line my inner critic bullied me with this past week. I’m not good enough. My eyes glazed over as I stared past my family and through the Christmas tree. Not good enough. But there was no panic. I knew why my brain was doing that, and I knew
It wasn’t the year I wanted, but… Read More »
“Whoa! What’s the rush? Where do you need to be?” Whoever says this has already slowed me down. Nowhere. The answer is almost always nowhere. For someone who went long un-diagnosed for their ADHD, I think I’m pretty good at leaving the house on time. It’s uncommon that I feel pressed to rush. So I
In Defense of Fast Walking Read More »
On laundry day, I feel like I could be POTUS. The chore is a Level Ten on my executive function scorecard. I mean, think of all it entails: Doesn’t it exhaust you just reading about it? If I had laundry units in my apartment (the dream scenario of all big-city renters, no?) I think things
Laundry Day as a Metric of Wellness Read More »
I had the privilege to spend the past week on a lake in what must be one of the most beautiful pockets of the United States. The Adirondacks are a part of the country I previously knew only from films—mostly 70s summer camp flicks, horror or otherwise. A place where white birch trunks brighten the
The Adirondacks and Longing Read More »
I am, and have always been, a storyteller. A lot of the stories I tell are the ones I tell myself. I remember one story I told to myself as a kid. I stood at the foot of an iron-posted twin bed and rested my elbows on the cross bar. It was my podium as
The Stories I Tell Myself Read More »
Somewhere, a room is waiting for me. My soul mate of a room. The planets are working on it right now. Finding the right alignment to bring me and my room together. The books are stacking up. The paint is drying on the artwork. The seeds are dormant in their thrift store pots… waiting. Somewhere,
My Room Is Out There Read More »
A friend, who I thought knew what she was doing, scared me one day. She’d grabbed my wrist in alarm when I told her that I posted some of my writing online for free. She was a working artist and spoke with authority: “Never post anything for free. It’s finite. You have to get paid.”
Creativity Can Feel Finite (But It Isn’t) Read More »
Saint dances in a way that doesn’t figure with her ambitiously devout name. And Dan’s looking at her. Can’t stop staring. The dance floor is suffocating. The energy of it moves us tidally toward our destined outcomes. It lifts Dan and pulls him toward Saint in her cashmere mock turtleneck. Her flocked miniskirt clings to
CW: Graphic intrusive, obsessive thoughts described as though they were actually happening. I wake up and roll onto my back to enjoy that extra hour in bed that a Saturday buys. But within seconds I’m covered in blood, candy red, from head to toe. I’m used to it. I just cross my arms over my
When I started to write romance, there were a lot of things that made a pen name appeal. There was general privacy: it made it more difficult for creepers (past and potential) to find me. There were the search engine perks: I could keep my brand more focused and less diluted by my history of
What’s in a Pen Name? Read More »
