The boy on the beach

There are fewer more embarrassing things for a writer than when someone — a prospective client or random reader — mentions they’ve visited your blog and you haven’t posted in months. Like, many months. It may not be my life goal to be a voracious blogger, but a professional writer shouldn’t be a negligent one, either. It would be easy […]

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Pulling back and stepping back up

I just checked my book sales for the first time in two months. This is the first time I’ve logged into my own website in nearly three. If you follow me on Twitter, you’ve probably forgotten that you follow me on Twitter. If you’ve worked with me at all for the last few months, you might have noticed that instead of being prompt, responsive and committed to meeting my own high standards, I’ve been juuuuuuust squeaking by.

Sorry, world. It was unavoidable. Something has been sucking the life out of me in a greedy quest to feed its own existence. It’s a baby. And I am, of course, more than willing to let it do so for the next 19 to 25 years. Though I was fully unprepared for how difficult the first trimester would be (the fatigue! the evil, stifling blanket of fatigue!), everything that I am and all that I believe preclude me from blaming my need to temporarily recede from reality on a pregnancy. Oh no. If only that was the only thing.

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Blurring lines everywhere, making everything better

The biggest synonym-related issue I keep bumping up against lately in my writing (as opposed to all of the other synonym-related issues) has been coming up with new ways to describe blurred lines. Hazy boundaries? Fuzzy fringes? Petering perimeters?

The thing that makes this rhetorical quandary interesting is that it’s not due to any one particular trend happening in one particular industry. I cover a number of topics, and in the last few months I’ve written about the blurring lines between brand publishing and advertising, engineering and medicine, women and tech leadership, art and economic development, media companies and technology firms, and, most recently, between urban and suburban places (coming soon!).

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The Jane Austen to-do list: Wait, wait, wait, something happens, wait….

When fretting about time, which often I do – whether or not I have enough time for all the tasks at hand, whether not I have enough tasks to fill the time, whether something I want or need will be found in time for a deadline or my own satisfaction – I think about Jane Austen.

In an Austen novel, every period of time – between visits, between news, between one activity and the next – is measured, not in minutes or hours, but in weeks. Weeks. From Pride & Prejudice:

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Making lists, erasing lists

Tis the season of lists, is it not? It begins in December with a barrage of lists summing up the year coming to a close, as well as projections for what’s to come in the next. Just as that starts to peter out, we start getting the lists of goals, new habits and tasks. Lists, lists, lists! As far as the eye can see and the interwebz can access!

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Ok, chaos. Fine.

There is a certain degree of chaos that I deal on a daily basis. If you’ve met our dog Lois, you know what I mean. But there’s also chaos involved with any type of freelancing, which varies from day to day, but is always around to some degree. Sure, being a freelancer frees you from the overbearing boss and demands for your presence that aren’t necessary, but those annoyances are replaced by others. And generally, chaos is the theme of most of them.

One day recently, I was yelling at Lois for licking the dishes in the dishwasher (which she always does, despite always being yelled at for it), and I thought, “Why isn’t Lois allowed to lick the dishes?”
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MacBooks, horror movies and the serenity to accept all of the things or whatever

Watching horror movies, like taking shots, is something I realized in my early 20s that I hated and didn’t ever have to do again if I didn’t want to. So I’m coming up blank when trying to think of the name of a movie in which the main characters are supposed to die in a massive plane explosion, but somehow get out of it, but then death chases them around and tries to reclaim them.

Now that I think about it, this may have been the very movie that made me say, “Nope. I’m not doing these anymore. Horrifying death isn’t entertaining to me,” so that’s probably why I’ve both blocked out the details and think about it fairly frequently. I bring it up now because…sigh…a death my MacBook escaped two years ago has come to caught up with it. That’s right. I just Final Destinationed my computer. (OK, I Googled it.)

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