Gathering thoughts…
the startling, borderline terrifying -- yet strangely comforting in its reassurance of purpose -- ephiphany: this is FOREVER, this writing gig, this cook & tell revival. like the jarring middle-of-the-night realization in early sobriety.
and then, as it did almost a quarter century ago, the universe gave a little nudge: one fucking day, moment, word at a time. that's all. word by word.
the experiment continues.
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This 100-day project does not take weekends off. But I'm staying true to my overall writing philosophy: write something every day. In my mother's immortal words, "Keep Saturday Saturday: start late and go slow." I started very late, 2pm, and the 15 minute goal to write anything project-related became 30 and 45 and eventually 75 minutes. Today, Sacred Sunday, the day I get to…
as i transcribe her old columns, newspaper clippings yellowed with years, flanked by ads for local shops that no longer exist, her persona begins to take form. as if i were sitting at a potter's wheel, coaxing out a shape. as if i were writing a novel, the setting and characters slowly coming to life. i did not realize i held the power to build a nonfictional world, how her…
pulled the thread of despair i took to bed last night, the "why bother?" that hovered, unbidden, writing roadblock 97, the one that combines worthiness with approval, the one that questions whether anyone reads anymore, if the world needs another cooking story, the one that tells me i can't for so many reasons. pulled that thread through the eye of the writing needle --…
Writing a weekly newsletter is challenging and energizing. But two? That's a different animal. As i continue this 100-day project -- writing content, art, formatting, frequency, whether or not to offer paid subscriptions and etc -- it suddenly occurs to me i still have to write content for my weekly, already-established newsletter alongside the other. So i've laid out topics…
never have i actually made an elevator speech. in my past life as an insurance sales exec, we learned the art of the elevator speech--a succinct product pitch short enough to share with a stranger in an elevator. i want to believe i've honed the art of brevity in anything; i am, after all, writer of flash and micro. still, i struggle with the "what's it about?" question when…
