Block Around The Clock

The blinking cursor is a taunting meanie. She flashes back and forth on my screen to a mocking beat that seems to say, “You. Suck. You. Suck. You. Suck…” The only way to keep her quiet is to write something. Now, you don’t have to be a writer to know that some days you’re hot and other days You. Suck. You. Suck. You. Suck and today is one of those days. Actually, so was yesterday. I searched my brain for something worth sharing and all I saw was darkness. Many of you would diagnose me with Writer’s Block–a condition that attacks the creativity hubs of motivated writers and renders them useless. But I don’t believe in writer’s block. There. I

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Tech Yourself Before You Wreck Yourself.

 

Should we ever find ourselves at the same dinner party, wine and conversation flowing, you will inevitably hear me ask,  “Is anyone worried that one of our enemies will hack into our power grid and turn off our electricity?  I am. And if it happens we will be cave people because we are helpless without our devices!”

Every time I bring this up (ah-lot!) I expect an emotionally charged consensus. After all, the fact that we are WAY too dependent on technology is impossible to dispute. And since technology is WAY too dependent on electricity and electricity goes out, we’re sitting ducks. But no one bites. Instead, guests start clearing dishes and bathroom lines form. My guess is …

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Phantom of the Oprah.

During last Sunday’s Golden Globes, Oprah told millions that, “Speaking your truth is the most powerful tool we all have.” Memes, reposts and Reese fans agreed. So did I. Until I didn’t.

Oprah’s declaration haunted me well into Tuesday. Not because it was so spot on, but because it felt off. Sure if speaking one’s truth means owning your true nature and living without shame, I’m all for it.

But isn’t that living a truth?

Speaking one’s truth means articulating what is true for you. And that’s not always appropriate. If I spoke my truth all the time the “powerful tool” I’d get would be a tire iron to the skull.

When it comes to truth-speaking, the real tool is …

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Writing Under the Influence

There are two things that some authors do–and do well–that have always eluded me.

  1. They write under the influence of drugs or alcohol.
  2. They write without an outline or plan.

In all my fifteen years of authoring I have never done either. Until right now. Right now I am doing both. That’s probably why I just used the word “authoring.”

You see, two weeks ago I had knee replacement surgery.

That’s why I haven’t blogged. I thought I’d keep it up from the hospital so I brought my laptop and a Marc Jacobs bag filled with good intentions. This coming from the girl who packs gym clothes on book tour, but never works out. The same girl who

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I’m Too Skinny For This Blog.

What I am about to share is my own experience. I’d also bet my life, and my afterlife, that it has been yours too.

Last Saturday night, while blasting the Salt-N-Pepa station on Pandora, I took one last look in the mirror before heading to a party. My hair was the right amount of tousled. My slip dress and satin smoking jacket were on point. My black Vans howled, “whimsical comfort” at the super moon. I was red lipstick ready and eager to Shoop-oop-a-doop.

Upon arrival, I was ushered onto the private deck of a beachside bar. Think bungalow’s, bartenders, a decadent spread of food, and hilarious friends. And yet, the following thoughts tsunami’ed into my brain:

So and So’s

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Might As Well Face It You’re Addicted To…Potential.

At the risk of sounding pretentious I’d like to start this blog by quoting myself. Last week I wrote, “I happen to know that there is someone in your life that doesn’t make you feel good. They have you believing you’re not good enough…” This struck a chord with many of you and I have the comments to prove it.

Kyla doesn’t want to give up on her friend, but wants her to change. Kiana wants to know what to do if this person is a relative. And Elizabeth’s boyfriend would be so amazing if only he was totally different.

These three ladies, along with the rest of us who allow toxic people to poison our lives, have an addiction. …

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No Thanks, Thanksgiving.

If Thanksgiving is a judge, I am requesting permission to approach the bench. Maybe I’ll be held in contempt or maybe a new precedent will be formed. In this mock trial you, my dear reader, are all twelve jurors. You decide.

My proposal? I would like the American people to add a dash of No Thanks to Thanksgiving 2017 by saying nay to five toxic behaviors. If you do, I guarantee you will have five more things to be grateful for.

The NO THANKS Thanksgiving List.

  1. I happen to know that there is someone in your life that doesn’t make you feel good. They have you believing you’re not good enough. That if you were only (insert) they would treat
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Positively Negative.

I try to be positive. I really do. But here’s the thing about acceptance, optimism, and half-full glasses: they’re no fun. It’s the challenges, mishaps, and wipeouts that made life dramatic and hilarious. So when it comes to writing, looking on the dark side is my attitude of choice.

As many of you know, I’ve started tinkering around with a new idea. And with that comes a ton of character development. So this morning I made a Bug List. Why? Because my fictional friends need flaws and quirks and petty irritations. It’s those details that make them memorable. So don’t be surprised if you come across the any of these annoying-to-me traits in my next novel.

  1. The term “awesome sauce.”
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Writing The Ship

I finished my final manuscript for The Dirty Book Club in January 2017 ready for a break. After thirty-two novels and a grey-green complexion all I wanted to do was tend to my hair–the wanted and the unwanted–and re-enter society, tragic as it has become. At that point I could only imagine what life was like outside my head and I was so over imagining. I wanted reality. So much so that I spoke to a local shop owner about working at her boutique. Dressing living people instead of fictional characters seemed like a positive first step.

But my work on the Dirty Book Club was far from over. Proofs needed proofing. My dying social media sites needed defibrillators. Then …

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