My husband and I were watching the TV show The Pitt when the main character made a passing reference to Sisyphus. A few days later, I came across a literary publication called Sisyphus. Two mentions in one week were enough to get me thinking about boulders. You probably know the myth: Sisyphus, punished by the gods for …
Confession: When I was a single mom, I used SNAP benefits to feed my kids. I also relied on Medicaid for our healthcare. I’ve carried shame about this for years. The voice in my head was relentless: I should be able to do this alone. That feeling of failure wasn’t a result of my judgment alone. …
Last week in Chicago, my hometown, Black Hawk helicopters circled overhead as federal agents conducted raids in apartment buildings, breaking down doors in the middle of the night and detaining residents—including U.S. citizens—for hours. Neighbors began patrolling school drop-offs and pick-ups, protecting children and mothers from ICE agents. In Logan Square, where my son lives, …
My alarm was set for five a.m. but I was wide awake before it went off. I hadn’t slept much because I was too “excited”—excitement being what I’ve decided to call anxiety—about my live interview on Canadian morning television. My publicist had booked me on what she called “the Today show of Canada” to talk …
Last week I had a disturbing realization: I forgot to write my blog. I typically send it out on Wednesday or Thursday and it was Saturday before it even crossed my mind.
I’ve been sharing a blog every week for nearly three and a half years. There have been times when I’ve had to skip a week here or there, but that has always been a decision.
A few years ago, I went to hear author and now presidential candidate Marianne Williamson speak. She was describing a conference she held on race relations in Los Angeles. She said that tension was rising in the room when a white man stood up and angrily addressed an African-American woman.
“We’ve heard about all of this injustice again and again!” he yelled. “This is not helping anything. Why can’t we move on?”
I don’t usually include photos in my weekly blogs, but this you just have to see to believe—at my house, we have been living in a sock crisis for months. How does this relate to your writing? The excuses you make about why you can’t find the time, or why your stories don’t actually matter, or how it’s fine to let your project limp along as a scrambled, disorganized mess, those have to stop.
So you want to write about your life, but let’s face it—you’re afraid to share personal stories that involve people you know. Your experiences are populated with your loved ones and this is what’s stopping you. You can’t share your story without including the good, the bad, and the ugly, and those can come in the form of friends and family.
How do you write the truth without alienating your entire social network?
Several weeks ago, on my way to my yoga class, I noticed an elderly man pulling weeds in his front yard. He was kneeling on a paper bag, working his way slowly through what looked to me like an impossible task.
Because the yard was nothing but weeds. And the house itself, in my ungenerous opinion, was a sort of weed, with sad, faded blue paint, a sagging front porch, and a sidewalk that was crumbling and cracked.
Since the publication of my memoir last fall, I’ve been reunited with my first love—fiction—and it feels so…..good. Mostly.
It also feels daunting and overwhelming and fills me with uncertainty and doubt.
But I believe ideas have their own timeline, and that, when we pay attention, we see tiny sprouts of magic when the time comes to begin the novel, or return to the memoir, or noodle over a poem.
👉 Enjoy dedicated writing space just steps from Lake Michigan
👉 Benefit from one-on-one developmental editing sessions