Why  I  write:

  • I write because a trained monkey could do my job, not a NASA, piloting rocket monkey, but an average run on of the mill, poo-flinging in the zoo monkey. I loved my job once but it is a faded lover. Until I find a new one, I wake to the doldrums of 9-5 because I have to bow down to necessity.
  • I write because there is a dull little ache in me that grows stronger with each breath. It can only be eased by spilling my blood. Words on paper.
  • I write because immortality lives in ink.
  • And (last though not least) I write because I once screamed “I am alone,” and was proven wrong by books. I hear the screaming of the masses. They want to know someone cares, someone feels that way, that they are not alone. I need desperately to reassure them of this.

You are not alone.

That is why I write.

Why do you?

If fonts were cats

I’m afraid it is a short post today.

Later today, I’m going to a reflexology and yoga retreat. Before then, I’d like to get some writing in.  But of course, I find myself surfing the web instead. On the plus side I found this amusing link:

Anyone who loves fonts (and what personality they reflex) should check it out.

Enjoy, and happy Saturday!


Maybe I’m just chicken shit (pondering self-publication)

When my friends and I turned 16, we came up with the brilliant idea of night car surfing. Our night-blind friend would drive her Eclipse  down the winding back -roads of our hometown, while one friend sat out of  the moon roof and the other (usually I) sat out of the window, legs dangling, only holding on by the fat on our bottom.  The wind rushing through my hair, stars twinkling above mixing with the danger of deer and speed bumps brought out the best and worst in me.

When you’re a stupid, daring stupid teenage, people often think you are fearless.

But I was far from it.

I am far from it.

Behind the girl who would sled down cliffs only because her friends broke bones on it was a girl striving for perfection, desperately afraid of rejection.

This doesn’t go with being an artist where rejection is a daily part of life.

And for that reason, I pushed my art aside year and year, until, no matter what I did, I couldn’t deny what was part of me. I’m not happy if I’m not making art. And what good is art if no one else sees it?

I’ll just have to deal with rejection (again and again).

But it still isn’t easy.

Nor is this.

I have a collection of stories ready for self-publication, and though I have done some research, I wanted to ask you, my readers, if you have a preferred self-publication sight/method?

I need to stop making excuses and just do it!

What is the worse that could happen, right?


Two things to brighten your day

Two things to brighten your day:

1)There is a very awesome web series I have stumbled upon, thanks to Vintage Books and Anchor Books facebook page, “Writers on Writing”. Below is one of my favorite ones. There are 32 in all. (I know I’ve just consumed your day.)

2) The best advice on how to open a new book.


Alternative book titles (Dr. Seuss)

Alternative book titles

Alternative book titles

I was reminded of this awesome image (I wish I knew who came up with it so I can give credit where do) when I was re-watching The Lorax on Valentine’s Day. When this movie first came out, a lot of my friends were angered by the movie because of the political nature of the film (opposed to the book)…all I could do was laugh.

I’m not mature enough for a Nook

I am a sane person. Let me stress this, when I’m not on an adventure or at a concert, I’m an in bed at ten p.m. on a Friday night sort of girl. I drive a Taurus. I work with 5 year olds. I live an unassuming life in a quiet town in the heart of Illinois.

Nothing terribly exciting.

Except now I’ve lost it.

I purchased a nook days ago, and before the soft glow of its artificial light had grown dim, I found myself glued to the computer like a crazy-cat lady is to icanhascheezerburger, desperately seeking out all free ebooks, that the Nook has to offer.

Obsessed with the Nook

Obsessed with the Nook

Books and more books. Old friends, Hemingway, Dickens and Plath are just a touch of the finger away and others, writers who I have never heard of, are pulling me away from reality, inviting me to dance in their world.Do any of you have a Nook? If so how do you resist the urge to spend all of your time seeking out new works to read?

How do you budget?

I could see myself spending much too much on this, especially since you can set up an online account with a credit card (so I won’t have to see the total until I get the bill.)

A friend of mine advised me to buy a gift card at the beginning of the year and allot my money that way. I’m thinking about try this and if I do, I’ll let you know how it works.

Ice Climbing

“What are men compared to rocks and mountains?”

-Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

Last weekend, I treked 10 hours up to Northern Michigan. The roads, snow-covered and icy, beckoned to my soul that’s trapped in the doldrums of working a nine to five job. My heart skipped a beat as my body didn’t yet completely stir, eyes fallen with sleep, hugged in with layer after layer of clothing to protect me from the negative degree weather until I was little more than a human marshmallow.

I went out an ice climbing virgin as the sun rose. As it set, I fell even more in love with nature.

I wish sometimes that I had started climbing for better reasons, that life after illness and a two-year, soul dragging relationship hadn’t left my world shaded gray. But after weeks of crying, I could take it no more and I found myself at my local rock-climbing gym, looking for something to take my mind of of things.  Climbing started out a distraction and nothing more, but over the year, I have found my reasons changed. I have found myself change.

I climb because it is there.

I climb because it is hard.

I climb because I am not good of it.

But mostly, I climb because I see God in the stars, moon, trees and running steams.

In the darkness, I found beauty.

If you are lost, there is something out there for you.

You just have to find it.

A rock n roll intervention, an open letter to Nickelback

I wrote this a year ago on a failed blog of mine, but it’s a lovely little tongue in check letter to one of the larger rock acts of my day, Nickelback. Not exactly writing related, but fans of rock music, enjoy!

Dearest members of Nickelback,

Like most rockers, I have my list of “dirty bands” that I’m ashamed to admit I really like, looking at you Hall & Oates, but until recently you weren’t one of them.

Hell, I even liked you before Silver Side Up, and the single, “How you Remind Me,” alerted the female populous to Chad Kroeger’s  used-car-salesmanesque good looks.

Maybe, the lyrics weren’t amazing, neither were the guitar riffs, you could even say they border on generic but as AC/DC and other bands have proved, that’s no hindrance to rock greatness. Besides that, I appreciated the band’s willingness to cover somewhat seedy topics such as domestic abuse and filicide, so much so that I defended you as your artistic endeavors produced All The Right Reasons.

This album for those who don’t know left us such lyrical gems as:

  • What the hell is on Joey’s head?    A hat maybe?….more importantly why do I care?
  •  I’ll have the quesadilla, ha ha Because if you can get a free meal you should totally buy what you’d have to drop a $1.50 for at Taco Bell.

And my personal favorite:

  • If everyone cared and nobody cried/If everyone loved and nobody lied/If everyone shared and swallowed their pride/Then we’d see the day when nobody died 

Well no, hate to tell you, even if we all cared, people would still die……

I even ignored the song “Animals,” which honestly brings about pedophilia  imaginary of that creepy 30 year old that spent just a little too much time outside of the high school building and at football game after parties. Sure the guy was cool ‘cuz he bought you beer and cigs but still the only girl who would go out with him was that skanky girl with low self-esteem and even she wouldn’t admit to her friends that they were actually dating….

But hey every band’s entitled to an album that never should have seen the light of day.

Then you produced Dark Horse which was neither dark, nor contained equestrian references and if you’re going that it’s the dark horse (not expected to win) vibe, well considering you already had three hit albums, that’s just moronic, unless you are trying to be a hipster, and well I doubt it Chad.

This album produce the  gem “Something in Your Mouth.”

  • In the spotlight, all night, kissing everyone./And trying to look so innocent while sucking on her thumb

I’m going to pause for a collective Ewwwwwww though I do applaud your ability to go past the obvious sexual reference and insert the image of a baby or perphaps toddler into your degrading song.

And if that wasn’t enough, you also produced the lyrical genious that was “Shakin’ Hands.”

  • Well she ain’t no Cinderella/When she’s getting undressed/‘Cause she rocks it like the naughty wicked witch of the west

Not since Pop Goes the Weasel has childhood imagery been so cleverly used. Indeed not one but two fairy tales are utilized in this borderline emasculating foray into lyrical laziness, especially considering that the wicked witch of the west, with her disgusting green face and warts has not even been cooped into slutty college Halloween outfits.

Even with this, I held out hope. Then I heard your newest single, “Bottoms Up” which  sounded exactly like EVERY song off your last album and now thanks to Chad signing them, a fair amount of My Darkest Day’s songs,  and is more like a grocery list of alcohol than a song, though I’m sure it took a good five minutes to write, killing my last tiny drop of hope that you might continue to contribute to the rock scene and not turn into a completely artistically devoid though commercially successful band…..

I get it. You are laughing all the way to the bank. With your slew of groupies to boot. But please please please, stop making crappy canned music.

You like sex. You like women. You like drugs. Good for you. But if I want that I can just go to my local CO-OP and pick up a Poison c.d.

Or maybe this is just a sick psychological game to see how crappy of music you can make and still sell a crapton of records. Either way, this girl’s done.

Love always (unless you continue to make sucktaular records),


Date a Girl Who Reads (A reblog must read)

It isn’t Valentine’s day yet, but since it is coming up, I thought I would share one of my favorite blogs of all times. I only wish I  wrote it.

Share this with the girl in your life that reads. It is sure to make her smile.

Date a girl who reads


“Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag. She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or if she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes.”

Rosemarie Urquico (in response to Charles Warnke’s You Should Date An Illiterate Girl)