Being a writer means that you’ll never have a shortage of criticism, whether it is offered up to you in heaping scoops of vitriol from faceless masses on the internet, or you gather it yourself from your never ending well of neurotic self-doubt. Hooray. Add “being a woman” into the equation and your cup overfloweth.…
I’ve heard that writers are never really done with the books they’ve written. That there are sentences they’d wished they could change, long after the book goes to print. That even after it hits the shelves and the reviews are in, it haunts them like the memory of an old love they can’t seem to…
The refrain I’ve heard again and again among American travelers over the last six months has been this: “Time to pretend we’re Canadian.” That seems to be the best way to avoid having to explain, well, anything that’s going on in our country. We can gently maneuver around any awkward conversations about the demise of…
“What’s the hardest part about writing a book?” I’ve been asked this question a lot lately, and my answer is what you’d expect: figuring out which darlings to fight for and which to cut, weaving a cohesive narrative, and finding an author bio photo of me that doesn’t have obscene words in the background.…
By the time we land in Seattle, I am tired of people asking about the contents of the plastic toolbox. Both Rand and I have carried it from my father’s tiny Bavarian village to Munich to Amsterdam and now home, each of us now acutely aware of how ill-suited a container it is for transportation.…
By now, you may have heard about a dear-god-I-wish-it-was-fake story that’s been floating around the internet, about a vaginal glue designed to keep labia sealed together during menstruation. Now, I know what you’re thinking: Wait, there’s glue made especially for vaginas? I’ve jut been using whatever I had lying around the house! Just kidding, what you…
The thing about having the phrase “petty theft” in the title of my book (AVAILABLE FOR PRE-ORDER NOW) is that everyone assumes – perhaps fairly – that I am driven by compulsive thievery. This is inaccurate. In reality, my thieving is calculated and vengeful, to be meted out upon deserving parties in the name of…
I hadn’t intended to write about Carrie Fisher’s passing, because so much has been said already, but it’s hard to skip over it. This blog goes through dry spells, when I’m too distracted by online videos of celebrity pet nip slips or the UN Security Council’s most embarrassing bloopers. I know I’m behind in the…
Let’s talk about my first social outing after my father died, which will probably make you feel better about yourself. Actually, most of my life will probably make you feel better about yourself. I’m basically a walking answer to the age-old question, “What happens when we raise a child on television and pixie sticks and…
