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Showing posts from April, 2016

Purple Meteor Showers in Heaven

This musical meteor shower is making me ugly cry so hard I have to start with someone else's words.

Thinking about how we mourn artists we've never met. We don't cry because we knew them, we cry because they helped us know ourselves. — Juliette (@ElusiveJ) January 11, 2016
For us girls (and boys and transsexual extraterrestrials and etc.) raised beneath the disapproving glare of the Virgin Mary in the last millennium, seeking to know ourselves in the Biblical sense to the secret soundtracks of naughty older men entering our fantasies through the wires of our Walkmans, this has been a devastating six months.

My ofrenda on this year's Day of the Dead is going to be covered in panties.

Pray for Rammstein, Caifanes, and all the hot grandpops still rocking our world.

Scott Weiland! David Bowie! Prince!

Rain down, rain down
Come on rain down on me
From a great height
From a great height... height...
Rain down, rain down
Come on rain down on me
From a great height
From a grea…

I'm Not a Sequel; You're a Prequel!

That's what my new manuscript, The Grove of Thorismud, is telling Briars and Black Hellebore.

It's also what I feel like my five-year-old daughter is telling me all the time, but I don't mind.

As a creative person, I've learned to trust that the most interesting content springs from my unconscious mind, or sometimes my uterus, and when that content stands up to take charge, it is generally in my best interest to discipline my conscious mind to switch into support mode, nurturing and feeding the creativity that needs to flow.


As a mom, I fully get behind what Khalil Gibran wrote "On Children." And if you like to talk about your books as your "babies," it's useful to read that poem and think about it metaphorically. If you want to launch your work far, you must create a steady, well-practiced foundation and be ready to let that arrow fly.

I never think of characters or stories I've written as "disobeying," just as I don't often f…

Deviant Church Lady of 10 Years

That honor tops my resume this week! Tomorrow is my 10th anniversary working for Unitarian Universalists. As a recovering Catholic, I never aspired to work for any kind of religious organization. (Unless there was, like, a really hip urban Zen monastery hiring staff? Like maybe Fight Club style Rinzai? That would have been cool.) I had no idea UUs existed before I responded to an employment ad after college. After getting real tired of substitute teaching and anything related to a mall, restaurant, or pyramid scheme, I was willing to try crazier things to pay for grad school, and working for a bunch of friendly peace-and-love hippies did not seem like the worst option out there. Little did I know that I would find myself in a position that so marvelously supported my values and personal life choices that I would quit grad school just to stay... a deviant church lady.


Ten years ago, I started this quirky job. Ten years before that, my world smelled like teen spirit. I came of age in 19…

Literarily Fangirling Right Now

The other day, I freaked out when I discovered that I have three degrees of separation from a winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature.

HOW GEEKY IS THAT.

Back in middle school, I had a friend who was somehow related to Anthony Kiedis. She had a tape (yes, an actual tape) of him walking through the background at a family reunion. Coolness. I didn't freak out about it, though.

Some months ago, my fairy godsister Leyna, an artistic soul from L.A. who lived for a little while in my Midwestern snowdrift town before returning to the sunshine, reported that she had bicycle-delivered some fresh-baked artisan bread to a pool party at Moby's house. Coolness, right? I like Moby. I have at least one Moby album somewhere, on CD, I'm pretty sure. I thought that was awesome, but I didn't freak out about it.

Anyway... Then the other day, I was thinking about the books that have left the greatest impression on me, and I decided to write up a Goodreads review for My Name Is Red by Orhan…