Tag Archives: impressions
They said it would never happen.
publishing trends: change is coming
I did it. I published a book.
The first e-book offering from little old me.
Yep. I did it. It wasn’t traditional. It wasn’t even my favorite book. I know, you shouldn’t say that. But I have become filterless in the last short while… beware the “f” bomb, people.
I blame it on the world. I am, like most writers filled with doubt about the publishing world- the book as we once knew it is probably changing forever. And along with that, is the way we acquire, market and buy both the author and the book.
So what’s a girl to do? Give up her dream? Stand …
What you Believe is What You Receive
Time for a little positive energy around here.
Kids are in school and learning a whole bunch of life defining skills- including school bus survival. I kiss and hug them and tell them every morning to go out there and knock ‘em dead. To hold their head up high and believe in themselves. My husband tells them every night how proud he is of them, how much he expects of them, how worthy they are. They are learning life lessons- that you don’t get what you don’t earn- and no one hears the whining.…
She's a Little Runaway
I ran away for a few days. But I’m back. And I was never that far. And I did what I needed to do.
I suppose we all have our runaway stories. My kids have both done it- or at least attempted it.
Not sure what that says about me as a Mommy.
Granted neither one of them got far, they were definitely missed and certainly the reason behind the attempt wasn’t taken lightly.
I know I had my share of runaway attempts growing up. The worst part was when I’d thought I’d runaway from home- had packed my favorite …
I love knowing interesting people.
I am easily bored. I used to move alot. And change jobs. And travel. And go out. And drink and… well, let’s just say, use other things to distract me. yes, that all helped. Sort of like a bandaid.
But now I am older and supposed to be wiser, I burrow in my brain and make my own escapes and sometimes when I am lucky …
I step out in the world and find magnificently interesting people.
Like Diego.
ENJOY.
Diego Stocco – Music From A Tree from Diego Stocco on Vimeo.…
One of a few things I'm trying to not dwell on.
Here’s the backstory if you’re new here-
or if you’re like my husband who only hears the words that come after steak, beer, bed, free or panties.
I wrote a (steak) novel- actually three, but here- to minimize dwelling potential- we’re only talking about the one my agent read, liked, edited and last week pitched to a bunch of (beer) hot NYC editors.
It’s summer, so of course I have plenty to do to keep me busy (panties) during the waiting period- which I have been told can be three days, four weeks, five months, six years or somewhere short …
Another Perspective on Why Writers Write
I am all about the somethingness. Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full.
“The writer must not really know what he is knowing, what he is learning to know when he writes, which is more than the knowing of it. A writer loves the dark, loves it, but is always fumbling around in the light. The writer is separate from his work but that’s all the writer is – what he writes. A writer must be smart but not too smart. He must be reckless and patient and daring and dull – for what is duller than writing, trying to …
In a status message world, there's a fine line between pithy and concise.
Sentences come to me in the middle of the night. Perfect opening lines find me in the shower.
A string of words that I imagine will become the well loved and much quoted words of the perfect ending to The Great American Novel pop into my head as I drive to the gym.
I can’t turn it off. I don’t want to turn it off.
But lately, I find the inner voice is distracted, slightly disembodied. The single sentence shudders to a halt. The string of words doesn’t have a wrap to the unwritten beginning.
My brain is writing status …
This is why I speed.
Tom says it’s a testicular pleasure. And while, as a woman, I can’t quite get on board with that reason, I cannot deny the sexual reference, nor my need for speed. Maybe it’s the pleasure it brings me, when the driving fast is combined with the illegality of it. It’s like sex- but not like this kind of sex. It’s like all the best parts of sex: the power, the control, the excitement, the pleasure, the adrenaline rush, the possibility of getting caught, the newness every time, the rise in blood pressure, the release, the chance to do it …
