“She who laughs at Grammy cries at the reading of the will,” says my grandmother, draped in curlers and a silken turquoise robe.
Lugged from some hidden corner, she plunks a mutant plastic Easter egg on the kitchen counter. She opens the domed contraption, extending its long neck. Settling herself in her barstool, she flips a switch on the device. Whirring, then a huff like a deep sustained sigh, begins. Beneath the dome, her head, to the lips, disappears. Continue reading “Story Skeleton: She Who Laughs at Grammy”
Almost a year ago now, I sat agonizing over my first blog post. I’d convinced two or three brave souls to let me profile them. Each had placed tremendous trust in me, but I worried. Would the words I put on the page both honor my subjects and connect with readers?
As a few people read that first post, then a few more, I felt the rush. My heart pounded in anticipation every time I checked the stats. Ten people. Then twenty. A hundred. Matt French, the subject of my first post, liked it. His friends and family liked it. That’s what mattered most, right?
But the more I read other blogs, and the more research I did to understand what “success” for a new blog should look like, the ickier I felt. A few months in, after I’d faithfully posted each week, I remember reading a piece from another blogger. She lamented she had only a “small” following–10,000 views a month. I felt shame. If she was disappointed with 10,000 what did it mean that 1/10th of that number visited mine? Clearly, something was wrong. Continue reading “What Matters More: Numbers or Relationships?”
My mother-in-law, Karry, makes a bread that tastes like the intersection of pound cake, cinnamon sugar donuts, and the best thing I’ve ever eaten in my life. It’s so good, my son wanted me to save some so he could invite his friends over for a slice, and my husband and I had an uncomfortable stand-off over who should eat the last piece. (He won—but only because I didn’t tell him I wanted it. I just stared at him while he popped the crumbly, chocolate chip-studded morsel into his mouth.)
This evanescent bread, a variant of Amish Friendship Bread, has a mission beyond being delicious.
One dark December night in the late 1980s, I pulled a pair of rollerblades on and slipped out the front door of my childhood home in Southern California. Not typically the fearless type, the notion of racing around my block in the middle of the night thrilled me, even as I worried I might come home bruised and bloody. The moment the wheels hit asphalt and I gained speed down the gentle hill not far from my house, I reveled in the speed. I was invincible, pure motion and spirit in that moment.
That’s how it feels to talk to Hadley Barrows, children’s book author, publisher, and changemaker. To know her, is to feel as if all things are possible.Continue reading “Becoming Invincible”
I’m writing this blog post from my new writing nook thanks (in part) to Colleen M. Story. She didn’t build it, my boyfriend Paul did, but she inspired it. That’s Colleen’s gift: Inspiring creative people to prioritize wellness as the single greatest asset towards fulfilling our artistic purpose.
If you’re reading this and thinking, “I’m not a creative type.” I have a message for you: Oh, yes you are. Anytime you solve a problem at work, you’re being creative. Anytime you figure out how to keep your kid from lighting his hair on fire by accident while still encouraging his interest in chemical combustion, you’re being creative. Colleen’s blog focuses on writers, but the wellness lessons apply to all of us. We face a world where we sometimes (a lot of the time) don’t prioritize our health and pay the price in dull thinking, aching backs, and a few too many cups of coffee or glasses of wine. Colleen can help change that. Continue reading “A Blog to Love: Writing and Wellness”
“Bye. I love you.” My stomach dropped. My brain didn’t consciously plan to say it, but there it was–Out there. These three little words, reserved for more than thirty years for only close family and romantic partners, had slipped through my lips. My friend Jenn laughed, “Ang, I love you too.”
Why did it take me decades to tell a dear friend I loved her? Short answer: I was afraid. I feared the vulnerability of such a declaration. I reserved I love you as if the words, and the emotions behind them, were rare gems, meant to be precious and few. But love, in its many forms, needn’t be scarce. Science and philosophy agree: love is a renewable resource with exponential return on investment. Continue reading “Share the Love: Write a Love Letter and I’ll Publish it”