Early 1990s: The Best Time to be a Kid, Part I

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I heart the 90s

Live, Nerd, Repeat

I got up this morning, made my coffee and sat at my writing desk, as is my usual Sunday ritual.  My desk has a nice window view toward my neighborhood.  I get to write and draw for hours while watching my neighbors do normal human things.  There’s nothing like observing people interacting with each other outside on a bright, sunny day to remind me of how much of a creepy hermit I’ve become since I’ve started writing.

Azalea Bushes


Creepy as Hell

As I typed in my underpants, I noticed two ten-year-old boys sitting on the curb (stop thinking what you’re thinking you damned perverts) and they were both staring at their smart phones, presumably texting each other.

It was a beautiful day outside; why were they on their phones?.  They’re frigging ten… why do they have smart phones in the first place?  Shouldn’t they be chasing each other, throwing a ball or attaching fireworks…

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Back to the future

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So today I had a phone interview with a Forbes 500 company. The interview went well I was offered a face-to-face interview. My mind started going there. “I am going to land this job and keep doing my writing part-time.” This is what I thought as soon as I hung up the phone but that is not what’s going  to happen. What’s going to happen is I will be offered this job, I will take it, and I will work hard for this company. I will start putting myself and others second to this job. The freelance writing will stop. I will lose sight of my ‘there’. It will pick up again when I or the job had enough of each other. I will whore myself out for this company and they will deem not valuable enough when it is time for a raise.  If I take this job this blog next year will be called 2 Getting There: The Sequel.

I don’t put out but …….


in order for me to reach my ‘there’ I must put myself out there. The scary thing about writing is you think you are good and then 25 literary agents tell you, “No, you really suck.” Friends and family tell you how great you are and the real world doubts if you went to college (I did. I swear I did. I have the two degrees collecting dust in my parents’ home).

Rejection is part of the game. In the meantime, I will continue to seek new clients, query literary agents, and focus on getting to my ‘there’.  Adversity is the breakfast of champions and I also eat it for lunch and dinner.

Some people are good at getting laid; I am good at getting laid off.


When I got laid off for the third time in three years I thought the Guinness Book of World Records was soon coming to take my picture. After that didn’t happen, I told myself (more like promised, swore, and crossed my heart) I would not work for anyone else again. I promised myself to fulfill my passion as a writer. This is what I knew I wanted to do. I was going to make my own rules, set my own schedule, and do everything on my terms.

I quickly started answering ads in Craiglist (excluding the porn ones although tempting) and found a freelance position for a copywriting company (content mill). I soon found myself trapped by my comfort. I was getting work. Dull work – who wants to write about a gastroenterologist (I must have missed a couple episodes on Grey’s Anatomy about Dr. McGassy)? I convinced myself I loved it because I was earning a paycheck. I then realized they were paying me 0.01¢ a word! 

And here I am again – starting over but I am getting there.

Lemon Hearted

A Bitter Sweet Lifestyle

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