My next post was going to be a collection of sexy, vaguely homo-erotic (ok sometimes just flat out homoerotic) pictures of 19th century men that I’ve collected while finding images for my book. But hell, it’s the end of 2015. Maybe the best year of my life so far. I guess I should honor…
I have spent an ass-achingly amount of time combing through image archives, looking for 19th century, hi-res 300 dpi or greater, public domain pictures to put in my book. (UNMENTIONABLE: The Victorian Lady’s Guide to Sex, Marriage and Manners Due Fall 2016 from Little, Brown! Woot!) Which is more difficult than you can even imagine, to find…
The relationship budding between me and my accountant bares similarities to that between my beloved Pam, and her own very talented accountant, Cyril. Let’s watch, shall we? Once again I sit in Mike the CPA’s office to talk about why I should have to pay taxes on the art and information I offer the…
My husband’s Uncle Shep is a doctor and surgeon and has probably saved more lives than most towns have people. Yet he believes home based technologies peaked around 1993, and his home, which he graciously opened to my family for our stay in Pennsylvania, reflects that belief. Specifically, he had no internet. No computer even. His…
I was right. It took about a week for the baffle-coma to wear off. Or maybe it was two weeks. I don’t know actually – time doesn’t penetrate a coma state. I counted time in congratulations and people’s praise of me. And in the rare backhanded, seething compliment. But since I’ve stopped desiring to tell…
It’s back to my woo-woo Lisa the Good Witch therapist, and her hourly rate; which is so high it seems like only the most sad and baffled aging Hollywood wives would be asked to pay it. And me. Because goddammit, she’s a soul-fixer genius. I don’t care if she DOES believe the midichlorians that incandescence her blood…
There is a teensy weensy percentage of the population who understands. Who, upon hearing that you are a “real writer” and have “a New York agent” representing your “book proposal” to the “Big 6,” get bug eyed and breathe a little harder. I know because I was one of them. I still am. Well,…
Every other writer I know works a hell of a lot harder than my lazy ass and if you judge by effort, I do not deserve what I’ve garnered in my 2 and a half year career. The other night I got to talk on late night radio about a little listicle…
I have a manila folder that, a year ago I scawled “BOOK REC.S” across, crumpled in my lap. I realize that in my slump of despair I’m resting my bosom on my accountant’s desk, and it is overflowing it’s pretty push-up bra into the v neck of my blouse. Bless his studied eye contact. I…
I don’t even know what you’d call it. I called myself a “humorist” in the program but that was because my vocabulary is lacking. In a talent show, where does, “Making witty observations while wildly gesticulating in front of a slide show of 19th century underwear” fall? My friend Sonja, who is…
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