Author of the novel WHEN YOU LOSE CONTROL

I took the kids to the farm, where we happened upon a turkey vulture enclosure. I got very excited, as my poet-aunt loves vultures and seems to have a special connection with them. One of the many highlights from my visit with her a couple years back was when she read me her vulture poem-  as we stood in front of it, beautifully framed on her wall.  When we saw the turkey vulture today, his back was towards us and he sort of did an over the shoulder look, and appeared very unamused. Then, he stretched his wings.  To say I was unprepared for his wingspan is a gross understatement. This bird was about two feet tall and his massive black wings spread about six feet wide. The kids and I stood in awe, none of us had seen something like this so up close. The children yelled out,      "He's huge!" I only nodded in agreement as I tried to grab a picture. I kept thinking about the Turkey Vulture all day, and when I got home I started to Google. I read a few articles and came acros

Scared to; Put myself out there. Participate in pitch wars. Begin querying again. Get rejected, again. Fall and/or be embarrassed. See months and months of hard work not amount to anything.  BUT, I am proud that I keep pushing myself and keep going. I'll be scared...but cautiously excited.  Fingers crossed. 

Knocks you on your ass. Makes you want to cry.  Forces you to feel. "Of course I have healed, because I was able to write it. The Story itself is the proof." That is a quote by T Kira Madden, from her essay,  "Against Catharsis." I came across it in the latest issue of Writer's Digest and I've been thinking about it all day. The first piece I wrote, almost ten years after earning my BA in Creative Writing, after ten years of not writing a thing, was my experience with mental and emotional abuse as a kid. When I finished it, I felt like maybe I was healed, or at least well on my way. Three years later, I sit here trying to edit and shop my novel around. I have a good, enjoyable job. I feel like...I've got this. 

Messy bun, chipped nail polish, hunched back, blue light overdose- but damnit, I just finished a major edit and overhaul of my novel.  I was convinced it was done back in June. Then I did some edits and was convinced it was perfect. Then I did a lot of queries. A lot. Then I did nothing for awhile, except get rejections.  My godmother read (what I thought was) my completed draft (thank you, Queen!) and when she pointed out a few things to me, she opened up my editing floodgates in the best possible way.  Since Saturday morning, and every second I haven't been at work, I have been working on a total overhaul. You couldn't tell me that my original draft wasn't everything and *cringe* I should have climbed down off my high horse a lot sooner. This new draft is ions better. My plan is to take the rest of this week and add the final touches, since next week is #pitmad and I will be wholeheartedly participating.  My dream and my goal is to get my book out by January. I'm terr

The weather in Massachusetts changes more often than David Bowie changed his looks or persona.  We prepared for Hurricane Henri on Saturday morning. All the potted plants came in, the patio furniture was stacked, the umbrella stand and glass table top went on to the porch. We made sure we had candles, and that all the phones and laptops were charged. We hunkered down and waited for the storm.  It lightly misted rain all day Sunday. Five maple leaves fell on our driveway. That was the extent of the storm. Annoying? Yes. Better safe than sorry? Absolutely.  Today at work, that rain was supposed to continue. Instead, it was humid with a mix of sun and clouds. We headed to the woods and ran around outside for hours. After a quick pit stop to gather picnic supplies, we went for a walk and sat down in a field to eat. Not five minutes into lunch, the sky unleashed.  Annoying? Yes. Soaked bodies and soggy food? Also yes. Surprised? No. At least it wasn't snow!

This morning when I woke up, I had a feeling that the beginning of my novel needed a big overhaul. I was fairly certain my instinct was right, but I wasn't sure if I had it in me to edit 95,000 words worth of work on an android.  I wrestled with my revelation before climbing out of bed. As I walked by a window in my house, in my head I went back and forth between "No, It's great" and "I really think the beginning needs a total change" and then I heard a series of chirps. I peered out the window and gasped. In the back yard, in the middle of our only tree, sat a bright red cardinal. Instantly, I knew I was heading in the right direction. I knew to trust my voice and revisit my book.  When my beloved grandmother died years ago, I started seeing cardinals everywhere. I soon learned that when you see a cardinal, it means a deceased loved one is visiting you. Ever since, whenever I felt sad or something was wrong, more often than not, a cardinal would appear.  Af

... your brain were a tangible, physical place, what would it be like? It would be the penthouse apartment in a huge skyscraper in Boston, New York City, or San Francisco. It would shift between the three, depending on my mood.  It would have shag carpeting and a sunken living room, because I've always adored The Brady Bunch and I was born way too late.  It would mix the modern comforts of wifi and food delivery apps and streaming services with vintage furnishings- the more 60's and 70's the better.  It would contain a closet that was huge, absolutely huge, and I would finally have a closet big enough to fit my abusrd amount of clothes. It would come with cats, an absurd amount of cats, all rescues and all loved and adored.  It would have books, books floor to ceiling. Books with paper pages and softcovers, books that don't glow or need to be plugged in. Most of all, it would be free of anxiety, depression, and self doubt. A sanctuary.

The first friends I ever had were characters from books. My mother wouldn't play with me, or let me go to preschool, so I was very lonely until kindergarten. In the meantime, I had books.  I started reading by kindergarten- partially out of necessity for my sanity, and partially because my dad, who worked 6 days a week, sat down and helped me along. Towards the end of kindergarten, I discovered The Baby-Sitters Club books and I was instantly hooked.  By the time first grade came around, I was making weekly trips to the library to get as many new BSC books as I could carry. I also scored a Claudia doll, and I carried her around with me everywhere. I even brought her to play at recess on occasion.  Logically, I outgrew most 80's and 90's trends, but I've never outgrown the Baby-Sitters Club. (I will also never end my relationship with scrunchies, body glitter,  or The Spice Girls, but that's another story.) For my teen years, and the years leading up to my wedding, I

John Mulaney played The Wilbur in Boston last night and was phenomenal. My husband and I were lucky enough to be in attendance- we haven't been anywhere or done anything since February of 2020 so August has been our return to normalcy. Kind of.  We started our night by eating dinner outside- faw away from other people. Later, we tightened our masks and sat inside with a sold out crowd. We were packed in tight and maybe 1/4 of us were masked. We prayed Delta couldn't get through the fabric affixed to our faces.  Mild terror aside, we got to see one of our favorite comedians in person. We were ecstatic. We also didn't know what to expect. What would he be discussing? Would he bring up rehab? What about the pandemic, or masks, or the fact that it was almost 90° outside, and only slightly cooler inside?  No spoilers here, but know John did not disappoint. He came out to raucous applause and seemed a little surprised by it. The audience made clear that we were all on his side an

A bit late to the game, my husband and I discovered Ted Lasso at the beginning of the summer. We figured it might be one of the rare shows we'd both enjoy because I'm a huge Jason Sudeikis fan, while he's obsessed with soccer. We were shocked by how incredibly good the show is and were both instantly hooked. We easily finished binging the show over a few days. In fact, when episode 10 ended, I queued up episode 1 and settled back in. The show has meant a lot to me, not just because it's funny and heartwarming, and because after each episode I feel like I've taken a Prozac for my whole body, but because each chapter leaves you feeling like you've just has ice cream with your best friend, after winning the lottery. The characters are serendipitous no matter what, lift each other up, or simply remind you to always, always belive in yourself.  I am especially endeared to the show because the post-novel writing process had been pretty draining, disheartening, bleak,

Writing once was winsome And now it makes me wamble  Immured in constant welter  My annoying whatabouts I don't wish to be a worldling Nor mean to act so woundy I just find that I am wankle Is this really what I wale Scared this is my wanion As I pause here in woning Fear I'm but a witling Crafting worsification

Writing my novel after earning my BA in Creative Writing 12 years ago, was so liberating. The entire process was really fun and uplifting. Telling my boss, my godmother, and my best friend was thrilling. Actually following through and finishing a project was a rare treat. And then that all stopped.  This sounds so cliché, but I am burnt out on querying because the marketing side of this process just feels...incredibly unnatural. I don't know how to market, I don't know how to monetize my art, and I feel overwhelmed trying to navigate the whole process. I feel like every query I've sent comes off boring and stiff. My novel and myself are neither.  When I got my first few rejections I actually felt delighted. I felt like I was a real writer. Everyone gets rejected so it felt like I had gained membership to the real writers club. After those first few, each rejection started to sting a bit more than the last. I'm at 11 so far and all the charm is gone, like I'm now a m

During the height of the insanity of 2020, my best friend began the process of buying a church built in the 1830's and turning it into a non-profit arts center. And this was after having twins and already being a mom to two other children.  I've been best friends with Abby since we were sophomores in high school and initially bonded over loathing gym class and trying to hide from the insufferable teacher we were cursed with. We've been bonded together ever since, almost 20 years. After a lot of back and forth and research and education and paperwork Abby has launched the New Dawn Arts Center in her town. Their website is up, they have a Facebook page, and soon they'll be starting a summer camp for children. To say I'm impressed with all that she's done and accomplished, especially in the most insane time imaginable, is a gross understatement. To watch someone you love and admire accomplish their dream and start a legacy is rare treat. I am so incredibly proud. C

I've been listening to Billy since I was a fetus, literally. My dad has been playing Billy on cassette since the late 70's. I've never known a world without Billy playing in the background and thank God, because his music is everything.  Last night at Fenway was my 10th time seeing Billy. I've seen him in NYC, Connecticut, and all over Massachusetts. It never gets old. His music just resonates with me on every level. He really is the entertainer.  This past Tuesday and Wednesday were the first things I've done since February of 2020. It was strange and different but so fun and exciting. I had carefully planned out my itinerary, transportation, and outfit- Fenway gets cold at night and really windy. After all my careful plans, I was ready to do something that didn't involve my couch.  What I never planned for was the constantly changing weather of New England. When I opened my phone yesterday morning and saw, "flash flood warning: Boston" on my phone sc

Five years ago, I saw GNR at Gillette Stadium. I never in my wildest dreams thought it would happen. I cried a few times- partially from shock, partially from excitement, and partially because they were phenomenal.  Tonight, I saw them again at Fenway Park. They were just as good, if not better. Axl sounded incredible and Slash is the greatest guitarist of all time- a hill I will happily die on.  I've been to many concerts- I've seen Bob Dylan, James Taylor, The Monkees, Billy Joel, Bruce Springsteen, but I have to say GNR takes the cake. They're just electric. They transcend time, you feel like you're just in their music. Amazing. I'm so thankful for tonight. 

My best friend recently bought a church that was built in 1834. It is a stunning building filled with old New England architecture and history. Today, she gave me and my parents a detailed tour. I was excited for many reasons, one of which was the bell. The bell in the steeple tower is said to have been created by an apprentice of Paul Revere. I had a vivid memory of seeing the bell on my first ever visit to the building. I remembered ringing it by pulling on a very long, thick rope, and looking up to see the underside of the silver bell. My father is obsessed with history, so I knew he'd be as thrilled as I was to see the bell. I asked my friend when we got there, when we could see the bell. She cocked her head to one side, "You can't see the bell. You have to open a false panel, then shimmy through a crawl space, then climb up a narrow tower." "Wait, what?" was my confused reply. My friend repeated herself. I stood there with my mouth open. "What abou