I went to YALLWEST for the fifth year in a row, and after a few years off from blogging about it, I decided, what the hell. I’ll blog about it. I’m seasoned. I’m a pro. Then I got lost.
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Last week, I started writing in the mornings again. And I'm only doing this because if I don't, I know I won't write at all.
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Ursula Le Guin passed away on Monday of last week, and since then I've felt oddly like I have a hole in my chest.
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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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Yesterday morning, I finished the second draft of hail the pumpkin king - a novel whose first draft I finished almost a year ago today.
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You were the one. The one that made me realize I could do it. Really do it. Write a book. A whole book.
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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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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."
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This past weekend marked the end of book festival season with YALLWEST, the only dedicated Young Adult bookfest in southern California.
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