For some reason, it’s often seen as selfish or arrogant to be proud of yourself. If you say “I’m proud of this accomplishment” you run the risk of other’s thinking you’re conceited.
There is merit in modesty humility, though. It’s probably not a good idea to wear a shirt that says “I’m the best” everyday or force your friends to throw you a party every time you make an A or B on a test, but if an accomplishment is a large, unusual, and meaningful one, then it’s 100% okay to be proud of yourself. If you just made an A on your MCAT, then you should have a party. Yeah, modesty is a virtue but that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to voice your own excitement at your achievements. Continue reading →
First and Foremost I must give credit to the idea of “chain smoking” to Austin Kleon in his book Show Your Work. In the book he discusses the importance of chain smoking (in relation to writing) and gives examples of writers who practice it. Now that’s out of the way, I’m going to Steal Like an Artistand write like the idea were my own.
Chain smokers go through multiple packs of cigarettes a day. As of 2013, the average adult aged smoker went through almost 22 cigarettes each day. In order to continually be smoking without a break, they often will light one cigarette with the butt of another.
Can we, as writers, identify ourselves as chain smokers? Not in the (albeit unhealthy and honestly gross) habitual way of literally inhaling the smoke of cigarettes, but in how we write. Are we going through multiple pages a day? How many writing hours are we averaging a day? Do you light the beginning of one story with the end of another? I believe we should all strive to be chain smoking writers. I know I do. And In no way am I saying writers have to write 22 pages every day, but continuing forward without a writing hiatus is more beneficial than we may give it credit. Continue reading →
Most vividly, I remember the rain. My hair had been stuck to my forehead and I was shivering from the cold. Running through the trees had winded me and I was struggling to see through the fog and rain. The house was large, hiding in plain sight.
I was scared, lost, and alone. I was also only six years old.
Now, twenty years later, the memories have become distant at best and fictional at worst. Once, I made the mistake of confiding in my girlfriend at the time, telling her all I remember about that night twenty years ago. I told her how the memory of the night feels physical to me, but the evidence of it was never found. Continue reading →
Well, fictional person I created to start an imaginary conversation for the purpose of making a point, it really depends on the past condition of the glass.
I always had trouble with the “Are you a glass half full or half empty” concept because my answer seemed to be “it depends” every time. It depends on how the glass got to that point.
See, a glass isn’t always one or the other. If water (or wine…) was just poured to the top and someone drank half of it, then the glass is now half empty. Alternately, if the glass was just filled to the current level, then it is half full. You can’t look at something and, with no knowledge of it’s past or it’s circumstances, decide it’s current condition. Its’s just too relative for that. So the answer to the question is going to change with every different circumstance.
The way I see it is there are three types of “inbox exs”.
The lonely inbox ex. He probably wants to hookup or even get back together. He realizes he lost something great and now regrets his life. He also can’t get any other girl to smile at him so he’s feeling small and lonely. It’s sad.
The angry inbox ex. He’s victimized himself, made you a “b*txh*, and told all his pickup truck friends that HE broke up with YOU. In his message, he makes use of all the curse words he’s learned in his however many years on earth and let all his “feminazi” frustration out on you. It’s also sad.
The apologetic inbox ex. He’s moved on, realized though you may have damaged his pride, he may also have hurt you. He has a new girlfriend but his conscience is keeping him up at night. He’s in your inbox to make amends. This one is no longer sad.
The first thing she ever said to me was a lie. Lying was her oxygen. It’s how she survived every day. It’s how she took breath and ate her food and walked down the street and drove her car. It’s the only thing that made her feel safe. Putting up a wall the rest of the world couldn’t climb. Pretending to be something she wasn’t. Lying. I understood, I guess. But I needed to know who she really was. I needed to get inside that head of hers. I needed to be a part of her life. But she didn’t have people in her life. She had passing faces and passing names that she probably won’t remember in two days time. But I needed to be there. So I came up with a plan. I wanted to know who she really was. I wanted to know what was the real face behind that mask. I wanted to know if she was even wearing a mask. I want to know why she was running and what or whom she was running from. Continue reading →
In December of 2016 I had the opportunity to visit “the greatest city in the world” with the greatest traveling partners in the world.
Meet the crew, known as “Future Everything”. We consist of a high-strung photographer, a diabetic closeted artist, a Broadway-crazed wannabe, and an obscenely blunt future Harpers Magazine writer. Continue reading →
Thanksgiving, Christmas shopping, finals studying and jumping in piles of leaves. Also Alicia’s birthday month, but what a lot of writers know November as is something much different, and much more horrifying than anything Halloween brought that year.
Also known as National November Writing Month.
What is NaNoWriMo? Basically, it’s a non profit organization, a challenge, and a writers wonderful, terrifying party. Continue reading →
I guess you could say I’ve had an easy life. On paper, everything has gone in my favor. From my family to my finances to my health, I’ve been mostly dealt a good hand. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t had struggles, pain, and disbeliefs.
I’ve had relationship problems and bad self-image. I’ve fought with my on-paper ‘perfect’ family and I’ve had painful breakups with both friends and more-than. I’ve been told my writing is sub-par and I need to find a ‘real’ job. I’ve had to take medicine for mental health problems and I’ve had doctors and coaches watch what food I do (or more accurately, don’t) put in my body. I’ve fallen asleep in tears and woken up not wanting to get out of bed. Continue reading →