I don’t write to be famous, I don’t write to be known, I write because I am and I want to be read. How sad to fill a room with paintings no one sees or play music no one hears. Writing is talking without sound, singing without score and dancing without movement and yet, it is all of them. It is a solitary art conjured from thought and expressed by the need to communicate.

HEAD SLAPS, SPEED BUMPS and LIGHTBULBS, one woman's WTF, oops and ah-ha moments of life.

They were published once, and as every writer knows, once is not enough.

Wednesday, April 24, 2013


I’ve been struggling with structure.

For some time now I have been compiling articles for my book.
It was my aim to gather a stack of tear-sheets, write the impetus for each piece and then share what happened after the article broke. I call it the force and fallout of writing. Personally I love to know why someone wrote something, how they came up with the idea, the whole process thing and what happened after it was published. I really don’t care if the writer is famous; I just find that sort of thing interesting.

So I’ve been gathering, writing the befores, writing the afters, knowing all along the whole thing is shit because there is no structure. And then, a 100 watt-er over my head; I came up with an idea. It has gone from a collection of essays about essays, ugh...boring, to drum roll please...my first year as a newspaper columnist.
What, no applause? I hear some groaning out there and I’m seeing a few eyes roll but hold on a minute.

Okay, so I’m the most famous person I know, which means I am as close to being known as Oprah is to being thin. I’m as close to being known as Joan Rivers is to being good looking. I’m as close to being known as Bruce Willis is to having hair, I’m as close to being known as...okay you get my point.

So who’d want to read about my first year writing for a weekly paper anyway? I mean really, the paper is delivered free, wrapped around my junk mail. Well...actually, if you wrote it, I’d read it. I’d want to know what it was like to plan two weddings in six months for two daughters as different as water and wine. A country son-in-law and a city son-in-law, I’d get a laugh out of that. If your husband is anything like mine I’d LOVE to read 650 words or less about him because I am married to the-everyman.

During my first year as a newspaper columnist I went from absolute obscurity, to mere obscurity within three months. It’s a kick when I get recognized in the frozen food aisle. Aside from the regular writing gig, the past year has been pretty interesting so I’m giving it a try.

A while back two of my dream agents both said, and I am paraphrasing, “...you have no idea how hard this book would be to sell to a publisher.” That’s why I decided to go the way of e-publishing. But now, with structure and extra down fluffing in and around the original pillows, I’m thinking that getting in bed with the traditionals might be the way to go.

If you are not convinced, and you believe I have my head so far up my ink-jet that illusion begins with an 'a' and ends with a 'hole', don’t tell me just yet. I want to enjoy my little world of anticipatory success for a short while until reality collapses my bed.

One woman's WTF, oops and ah-ha moments of life.

My first year as a newspaper columnist.


  1. Sometimes writers have tucked away novels because of too many rejections or they themselves felt it wasn't "good enough". I think someday you'll pull out one of the two novels; maybe you'll tweak something and think to yourself, "I'm going to let so and so read this." And maybe it will be with the right person at the right time and in the right place. HOLD ON, HOLD ON, I scream in my best Janis Joplin voice.

  2. Yes I have tucked away my novels, one is so much a part of me it feels like I have stashed a less than perfect child in a bricked up room in the basement.
    Like progeny all novels are imperfect.
    I wish so and so would read it. Then maybe...
    Thanks Bobby McGee.