Tag Archives: words
Famous Writer’s Birthdays Today
Straight from Garrison Keillor, a man who my children hate to hear drone in the car- they claim his voice induces car sickness…
From The Writer’s Almanac: January 25th
It’s the birthday of the novelist and essayist Virginia Woolf, (books by this author) born Virginia Stephen in London (1882). She never went to school, but her father chose books for her to read from his own library. She was only allowed to move out of her family home after her father’s death, when she was 22. She moved into a house with her brothers and sister, and instead of writing…
Words to the wise.
“Whatever you give a woman, she will make greater. If you give her sperm, she’ll give you a baby. If you give her a house, she’ll give you a home. If you give her groceries, she’ll give you a meal. If you give her a smile, she’ll give you her heart. She multiplies and enlarges what is given to her. So, if you give her any crap, be ready to receive a ton of shit.”
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…
My first guest blogger gig.
I’m pleased and flattered to be asked to post with these wonderful writers.
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…
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…
When TWITTERING gets creepy- WITH UPDATE
I saw this twitter today and it totally creeped me out.
I know how some people are joking on there, and how some are looking for attention and how some are marketing themselves.. and how some of us use it to connect with friends.
But that whole cry out touched me, and I wonder if there is something there and how would you help and how would you know.. I mean are there Twitter police? A Twitter Emergency squad?
Someone who will arrive at your designated Twitter-fied GPS location to pull the knife out of…





