100 Days of Writing - 18

My dog gets all freaked out when I sit down to write.  I'm not sure if it's because I have my back to the room or if it's she can sense A GENIUS AT WORK. Ha.

I'm finding this 100 Day Challenge I've given myself to be super helpful in terms of practice.  I rarely exercise the creative writer in me and enjoy the comfort zone of journaling and putting personal essays online.  Look I'm doing it again.

I've written a lot of monologues and a couple of scripts, but generally tend to avoid ensemble writing, or multiple points of view.  I also get intimidated by trying to advance a story based on everybody's wants and forget about acts.  Basically I have no idea what I'm doing but it feels great to work through this awkwardness and let the creative writer in me grow.


Margaret stared at her reflection in the mirror.  Her face was covered in a Moroccan mud mask, imported on a whim after reading about it in Glamour magazine.  It smelled like roses and was b…

100 Days of Writing - 17

Lorraine was digging through old photos when she came across the perfect image to post as part of the #10yearchallenge.  Something of a humble relic from her past, this photograph from 2009 had all the fixings for the post: great lighting, the right side of her face, straight teeth and most importantly, a defined chin.

See, Lorraine had put on a few pounds since then, and gravity being the skin-sucking beast that it is, had contributed to a, well... looser neck area.  She often contemplated liposuction and jaw enhancement, but she could barely afford to feed her cat on her meagre teacher's salary.

She practiced chin exercises, like Jim Carey had around the time that photo was taken, where he reemerged an apparent "new man" after a stint in the shadows of Hollywood.  Were she a man, she would have a well-loved beard to cover up her insecurity.

Lorraine watched what she ate, and eventually came to determine her neck glands would swell at the very sight of gluten so after c…

100 Days of Writing - 16

Dear Diary,

It's my "Sweet 16" and everybody bailed on my party last minute.  It's Friday night and I'm literally home alone in bed.  This sucks.  I keep waiting to get a Snap that actually makes me smile but so far it's been lazy "HBs" and heart emojis.
What did I do?  Seriously.  What did I do?  School was boring AF as usual today and when I got to my locker to go home there was just this one sad balloon tied to my lock.  I'm pretty sure Kristy took it from Cassandra B's locker, it had clearly been slowly deflating and her birthday was Monday.  FML.  
I get it- everybody's got their own shit happening but like... isn't today supposed to be about me?  I fucking baked a cake for Kristy's sweet 16 last month, the least she could do was like, post on my wall, tag me on Insta... SOMETHING.
I don't even think people are capable of caring anymore.  Not just about me but about life in general.  It's like there's all this du…

100 Days of Writing - 15

Janice took her dog Beatrice, a spunky 7 year old Maltese, for a walk one Saturday afternoon.  It was January, and cold, so she was surprised to hear birds chirping in the distance. 

She followed the joyful sounds along the street until they quieted down as she approached the evergreen tree they had gathered in.  Beatrice, a naturally curious pup, sniffed out their presence and quieted down to assess. 

For a city sidewalk, it was fairly quiet save for the random chirps coming from the little brown birds in the tree.

Janice stood there and admired the sounds as the chirping grew louder and louder.

"What the heck are they chirping about?" She wondered to herself. 

There must have been two dozen brown chickadees having the gab of their life in that tree that Saturday afternoon.  Each one sounded joyful and energized.  Janice admired their beautiful song but was stumped.  There were lots of trees on the street, so why had they chosen that one to hang out in?  And what in heaven&…

100 Days of Writing - 14

Stuck.  Completely.

No burst of inspiration tonight, just lots of self-doubt and irritability.  Going to sleep.

Goodnight moon,


100 Days of Writing - 13

I wrote 7 pages tonight but not much worth posting online.  Lots of feelings.

I also, however, met and chatted with someone I felt like I'd known for a long time though, that was something I haven't experienced in a while.  He came into the grocery store I work at to kill some time and we got to chatting.  After a while and after enough eye contact, it became evident that there was some sort of weird and very random chemistry happening, which totally freaked me out.

In the past, I've entertained the notion of past lives and soulmates and season/reason/lifetime people and I guess I was stumped by what transpired at the counter.  I left work feeling both anxious and energized and wondered if I would see him again.

Very aware right now that I have a tendency to write about love and so I think I'll put a button on this one and try to return to a more creative storytelling route for the next week.  Or maybe not, I don't dictate these things, my fingers do the writing.


100 Days of Writing - 12

I stopped listening to music for some stupid reason.  I imagine it has something to do with moving to a foreign place and up-heaving my life but I am making serious efforts to fix this and it feels good.

I put on an old album that I love (Winter Tale by Bobby Long) and it's taken me back to 2011 so I looked for a matching journal for that year and found my purple padded diary and when I flipped it open I found a list of crushes.  From 8 years ago, haha.

A real, live, grown woman wrote a list of crushes in her diary at almost 30.  I guess the dreamer in us doesn't always grow up eh?

First, a number is assigned.  Then their name, in full and finally, as if an afterthought, or me trying to find the algorithm behind the mystery of my singleness, is an adjective to describe them.  They range from sporty, to spiritual, cute, to "all of the above." Wrote that last one about my then-crush, a balding actor that I handed a hand-written poem to one night in a dark alley... that…