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 LIGHT-BULBS, one woman's WTF, oops and ah-ha moments of life, is the name of my memoir/essay collection with why I wrote what I wrote and what happened after. They were published once and as every writer knows, once is not enough.


Thursday, October 30, 2014

My dad had the answer


I’ve done it. I’ve sent out the first query for a proposal.

Having said that, I have, in my path placed, a huge boulder. The agent, the one I really, really think is perfect, the one I queried, is not taking unsolicited queries. That’s right NOT accepting unsolicited queries, referrals only. So why did I disregard the fence, the wall, the barrier, the rules?

A few years back I approached another agent, about another project, and she was closed to queries too, and yet, she was the kindest, most generous reader of my writing out there. The encouragement she passed along kept me going on the main road. So I’m hoping my words will wear away the barrier. My query is the best I can make it, as of today, to this agent, and I am hoping upon hope – and there it is, hope.

I have to add that she is not my dream agent but the one I believe is best to represent my story. THEE BEST. I used to have dream agents but what I’ve learned is that the dreamy ones, the ones so perfect for me, were not necessarily perfect for my projects. This one is perfect and I am praying, yes praying, she sees she is exactly the right person to represent my amazing story.

I love this stage of the game, this curve of the track, this card in the deck - this write, save and send moment is what I live for. Oh, my family, I love and live for them too but writing - as my dear departed Smirnoff loving father with the rummy nose used to say about everything common, and everything monumental, “That’s what it’s all about.”

What did your father 'used' to say?

Tuesday, October 21, 2014

Hygenic Writing



Yup, this is me,  I posed for this one.
I have not taken a bath in about eight years. No I do not smell of wood smoke and dirty laundry, I’m a shower-girl.

There’s something about taking baths which does not make me feel clean. Oh sure, I like to languish in warm water just like everybody else, it is where we all started, but soaking in exfoliated skin and a day’s dirt mixed with soap scum, just doesn’t feel clean to me. The solution…to shower after a bath. I’ve done that but it’s inconvenient and leaves wet footprints on the rug. Let me explain.

My bathroom is really large, about the size of a guest room. It’s nice, not over the top luxurious but comfortable and relaxing, if relaxing is what you want to do. But, most of the time, I don’t have the time to relax, I’m in and out and on my way, because boys and girls, I have places to go and people to annoy. So I get clean fast and am out the door.

So what does that have to do with writing?

I write like I bathe, fast, with Suave, (cheap) and Ivory (traditional), I still use the soap that floats, old habits die hard. I write un-fancy and inexpensively and am traditional; I write what they want and I write how I talk, without the expletives. I would love to swear more but newspapers frown on fuck and shit in print, so I guess you could call me a hygienic writer.  

I’ve tried long baths and I’ve tried to embellish my expressions with pontifications which fill the hearts and minds of readers with thoughts much grander than their own. But that’s bullshit writing and though I can sling BS with the rest of them that’s not who I am. I’m a shower writer, hygienic, inexpensive and with writing habits which float like my soap, on the surface of life.

Are you a soaker or shower writer?

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Home Sweet Gut-Job


The only thing worse than buying an as-is fixer-upper is when your kid and her husband buy one. I haven’t had time to cook, clean or write at all because they moved in with us until the house is ready, eeeeeekkkkkk!
My husband is the independent contractor on the project and I'm the interior painter, house cleaner, shit-shoveler and baby sitter. The only thing the kids can do is write checks and make long commutes to work, (so they can write checks).
First homes are very exciting.
See you back here after the big reveal.

When was the last time you had to set aside everything, and I mean everything for a member of your time-sucking, wonderful loving family?