nightwriterI’m supposed to be paying bills.

The floor was already supposed to have been mopped.

The dishes already emptied from the dishwasher and put away.

Instead, I’ve been sitting in front of my computer for the past hour and a half mesmerized by the writings of Sara Joyce Bryant.

I don’t think I have the words to describe her talent, so I invite you to take a look yourself.

The Night Writer

Mind Mirrors

Follow her on twitter: @thenightwriter

She’s amazing. Go find out for yourself.

 

I’ve been writing a lot these past few weeks, much of it inspired by writing exercises. One recent exercise asked me to brainstorm random moments and turn them into haikus.

I haven’t written one since the third grade but after I got a hang of the 5,7,5 thing, this is what I came up with–

On writing:

Words race fast fast fast
faster my mind wakes rushing
thoughts pour on paper

On my daughter growing up too fast for my liking:

Every moment

precious moves faster always

slipping through my fingers

And on honesty in writing:

Honest words shared with

strangers are easy because

judgement is withheld

 

I just finished reading Ariel Gore’s  How to Become a Famous Writer Before You’re Dead: Your Words in Print and Your Name in Lights.

This bookFamousCoverSM, well, it just kicks ass. From start to finish, it grabs you, speaks to you, and makes you feel like your sitting in a smoke-filled coffee house sipping a latte with Ariel sitting right across the uneven table from you as she shares her tips for not dying before you become famous.

She’s got interviews with other still-very-much-alive famous authors, writing exercises up the ying-yang, and a tell-it-like-it-is style that I totally heart.

Since reading this Hip Mama’s super-awesome book, I’ve purchased nearly every book mentioned or recommended within, signed up and subscribed to hip Mama (she’s the founding editor) and played around with the idea of starting my own zine, and found countless writing/author web sites she says are worth checking out.

And seeing as how Ariel Gore is already famous and still not dead, I’m gonna pretend this is my new bible and follow it even more religiously than the one I was supposed to have actually read already, seeing as how I am Catholic.

Besides, how can I not like a book by another mom writer who uses the word “fuck” as much as I do?

 

A friend recently read some of my work in progress and made my day telling me she was sure it was publishable. I was praised for my honesty, my willingness to share, my voice, and my sarcasm. All in all, it was my favorite phone call ever, because my writer’s ego was purring the whole time.

The only hiccup in the conversation was this: in between praise for my literary wit and her laughter (in the right places, thank God) as we went over my manuscript, she asked me the question I’ve pretty much been avoiding since I started this whole creative mess.

“So what does your family think about it?

Blink. Blink. “Wha-huh?”

“Your family…have you shown them anything you’ve written yet?”

“Um, well…not exactly.”

Which brings me directly to this blog post. And to the Internet. And to the strangers reading this post. And to those who’ve read the intro to Baby Ph(f)at and..and..

Well, you get the picture. My family, however, does not.

It’s not that I don’t want to share with them. But somehow, it’s easier to admit to a blank computer screen and a keyboard that I weigh 228 pounds and send it out to the world as part of a work in progress in an effort to connect with moms in my situation than it is to admit to anyone I know personally.

Take last night for example. I was working out with my new Wii Active and setting up my profile with my height and weight and all that jazz. When it came time to add The Number, The Husband automatically put his hands over his eyes and waited for me to tell him that the coast was clear.

And yet, I’m slapping it up on the Internet for everyone and their brother to see.

Right.  About that…

 

Raindrops fall as wet

wind dances across my cheeks

Flowers stand tall beneath the

sunshine before

stars

moon and night

clouds lay a blanket across my world

Seasons of my life pass quickly like

sand between my fingers

From Sark’s Juicy Journaling E-Program

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