Farewell to Figment

I know I haven't been using this space very much recently, but I convinced myself that this was important enough to document online. Excuse me while I have a Very Important Emotion—

At the end of next month, Figment.com is shutting down.

It's okay if that means nothing to you, but I don't think it's an exaggeration to say that to a group of my friends and I, about seven years ago, it meant everything. 

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Women are gold

You guys, I have some incredibly special news today.

For the past several months, my dear friend Kara at McFarlane Photography and I have been working on a super secret project. At the beginning of this year, she introduced me to a retailer based in Cambodia called Penh Lenh - they employ female artisans overcoming trauma and working to build new lives for themselves and their families, and craft the most gorgeous handmade jewelry, apparel, and accessories.

I instantly fell in love with the hearts behind this business; it's so beautiful to me that such painful situations can be redeemed through sisterhood (the word penh lenh means "whole").

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The day we marched

On Friday, January 20, I said my goodbyes to my colleagues and clients at the nonprofit I'd worked at for two and a half years.

Since Tuesday (because we were off on Monday), people had been asking me what my last week felt like, and I would say, "Oh, well, it's very sad." And it was. Or, "Oh, I'm excited." And I was.

On my last day in the office, I knelt on the floor at the end of the hall, and spray-glued feminist signage we'd printed on the office printer to posterboard for the Women's March. Three people watched over my shoulder, asking if I'd share my spray-glue. We might have gotten a little high off the aerosol. A few of us, me included, glued our fingers together. At one point, someone blasted Beyoncé's "Formation."

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Top 10 books I read in 2016: mini-reviews

(click here to read mini-reviews from 2014 and 2015.)

I'll be honest. I read a lot less this year than I usually do. It's been a rough year all the way around, and I'll probably talk about that later. Meanwhile, I'm writing this annual mini-review post because it brings me joy and also, there's little I love more than telling people what to read and how to live their lives.

Lezzgo.

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Turn the page

Yesterday morning, at around 7:45am, I finished the second draft of hail the pumpkin king -a novel whose first draft I finished almost a year ago today (I wasn't writing Draft 2 that whole time, I swear, just for about 4 months on and off).

This is the first book I've written multiple drafts of while also working full-time. It's also the first book whose first draft I've underwritten. And just when I feel like I'm learning things, I look up the D2 wordcount and there it is: 11,000 words that were not there before.

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Letters to my dead novels

dear dead novel #1,

You were the one.

The one that made me realize I could do it. Really do it. Write a book. A whole book.

You were a few hundred handwritten pages of pure, magical dream-fever. Sure, you were about talking horses running wild in Wyoming. Sure, half of you now lies smudged, faded, and illegible in a drawer because I was too naive to write with a pen and not a pencil. But Novel, I remember the long summer nights we spent together.

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More confessions of a yes-woman: take a f***ing vacation

Hi, guys. This will be short, I promise. This past week, a post I wrote for The Yellow Conference went live, and I reread it for the first time since I wrote it back in May. It's about saying no and having the courage to set boundaries for ourselves.

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Why we shovel sand

Here's a fun party story: Over the course of my life, I've written five novels. Despite this, it took me a long time until I found the nerve to start calling myself "a writer." This was largely because for the majority of my writing life, I was unrepresented and unpublished and yaddayaddayadda I overvalued the validation of other people.

Now? I'm not unpublished anymore. But I am still unrepresented.

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