Time to review this one!
I’m going to tell you a scary story…
I think I want to start journaling again, but I’m struggling with how.
I’m continuing my series of travel essays this week with a story about Barcelona, otherwise known as the city in which I did not sleep.
I’ve finished one of my rare forays into nonfiction with Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert (she of Eat, Pray, Love fame), and…
When I was in high school, I went through a new-age phase. I have no hard stats on this, but I think that may have happened to a good percentage of confused Catholic-raised adolescents in the ’90s who saw The Craft or walked past a Hot Topic and thought, “Hmmm. Maybe that’s who I am?”
I’ve been reading a lot of personal essays on blogs lately, so I thought I’d try my hand at it. First up: my true-life story about why Prague sucks.*
Some people say that in order to become a writer, you must write every day.
I thought it was just the US that was getting scarier and scarier. Not so, apparently.
Confession: when I first started writing *for real*, I honestly believed I only had a year or two of left of having to work a day job. “I’ll just stick it out until I finish this book,” I thought confidently. “I can deal with this until my glamorous writing career starts.”
