Mining my life for sexual material wasn’t entirely new. I’d written, after all, about my sex life in various publications and even penned an extremely graphic novel chapter about a guy masturbating to a picture of a girl he liked and read it at Rachel Kramer Bussel’s now-defunct reading series, “In The Flesh.”
But that scene was funny more than it was dirty. Besides, it wasn’t about me. Plus I’d abandoned that novel halfway through so it never saw the light of day.
In the books I’d published, I’d somehow avoided sex. My mother even commented at one point that the sex scenes in my books were more coitus interruptus than actual coitus. Keep reading »
It makes me feel better that my lady writer hero, Dorothy Parker, also suffered occasionally from writer’s block. She sent this telegram to her editor, Pascal Covici, because she was so ashamed she couldn’t even look him “in the voice.” What a fabulous line, by the way. I have a feeling what she wrote was probably amazing. Ah, the writer’s curse. Nowadays, if I’m suffering a brain freeze, I just send an apologetic email to Amelia about my “incompetence.” Maybe I should start sending telegrams instead. [Letters of Note] Keep reading »
“You are in danger of rushing something that needs to be taken slowly. Yes, okay, you may have slipped behind a bit in your schedule but is it really that important? Probably not. Take your time and get it right.” — My horoscope (Scorpio) on Sunday October 24th
I’m not always the most patient person. On Sunday, the day that I read the horoscope above — which I then photographed with my iPhone for safe keeping because it resonated that much — I made butternut squash soup and adapted the recipe to include caramelized onions. If you’ve ever attempted to make caramelized onions, you know they take an insane amount of patience. When you’ve gotten to the point where you think they’re done, that they’ve reached the ultimate level of sweet brown deliciousness, chances are, they need another 10 minutes more. I never ever give them enough time. Keep reading »
In the new Atlantic, a male author lampoons Jodi Picoult and Jennifer Weiner, “Two writers whose work is often referred to as chick lit,” for tweeting and commenting that white male literary darlings (like Jonathan Franzen) get all the good ink. Yet the only thing less fun than not being taken seriously by the big boys is not being taken anywhere at all. I know since I tried to sell out for decades when nobody was buying. Keep reading »
I feel bad for Emily Gould. Next week, the former editor of gossip blog Gawker.com will publish her first book, a collection of personal essays called And The Heart Says Whatever. And when I think about what’s going to happen to her, I just want to shield my eyes.
You see, almost two years ago exactly, Emily Gould landed on the cover of The New York Times Magazine for an article published in it, “Exposed: Blog Post Confidential.” If people hated her article (several thousand words about how her sometimes nasty blogging for Gawker complicated or ruined her personal relationships), they hated her cover photo even more: Gould lying on her bed in a tank top, staring up at the camera. The types of internet comments her piece provoked included cyberbullying-ish put-downs like “narcissists,” “narcissistic pipsqueak,” “immature,” “intellectual midget,” “navel-gazing,” “idiots with big mouths,” “undiagnosed psych disorder,” and “Now I understand the timeless appeal of public stoning.” Yeesh.
As another young female writer, watching this scared the crap out of me. I should probably be old enough to know better than to get rattled by all that haterade, but I worry about the young female writers in high schools across the country who see that and then learn, “This is what will happen if I write about myself.” Keep reading »
A lot of “new web sites” toddle into our line of vision and they’re largely forgettable. But SheWrites.com, a social networking site for women writers, is way cool. You can ask for help finding an agent, promote your books, articles and blog posts, or read interviews with beloved authors. And, of course, you can feel warm ‘n fuzzy inside about being part of community that truly sympathizes with the pain that comes from sitting too long with a warm laptop on your thighs!
I just joined and so did Amelia. If you’re a writer, won’t you join us? Keep reading »
Not sure if that mystery hottie messaging you on MySpace is really a cute guy or an old lonely woman with 50 cats that just likes to role-play? A new website program called the Gender Genie claims it can tell whether someone is a man or woman by their writing. Using algorithms developed by Moshe Koppel at Bar Ilan University and Shlomo Argamon from Illinois Institute of Technology, the site decodes any passage by any author and makes its determination instantly. Although I’ve always wanted a penis of my very own, when I checked my last blog post about Dick Cheney, it said I was a overwhelmingly a dude. Huh. This just further proves my theory that I’m actually a drag queen trapped in a woman’s body. [Gearlive]
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