Yes. Yes, I did, in fact, start this one off with an outrageous lie. Everything is not awesome, and that’s why it’s nice to have creative outlets. Sometimes, when life is bringing me down (or pissing me off), I write it out. But there are times when even that doesn’t work, because I’m so down (or pissed off) that I
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Sometimes the inside of my head looks a lot like those scenes in High Fidelity when Rob (John Cusack) imagines several — ahem — somewhat less-than-polite responses to Ian’s (Tim Robbins) attempt to get Rob to quit pursuing his ex. I think we all have those moments when some immense fuckwad is pushing our buttons so hard that the idea of
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Once upon a time, there was a little girl named [oh, shit, I didn’t think of a name yet. what’s her name? umm. not something too cutesy or too Brittany. she’s nine, I think. nine seems good. if the story is set in the present, that means she was born in 2010. depending on month, but let’s say 2010. ok,
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A little while ago, I killed off a character. Maybe. Probably. Hard to say what’s real and what’s not, but that’s beside the point. At the moment that I was writing it, he was dead, dead, deadski, regardless of what might or might not happen later. And I didn’t feel bad about it at all. I also completely traumatized another
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I was planning… something… when I typed the word “writing” into a Google search the other day. I’m not trying to be cagey, I just can’t remember what I originally planned to search for. I ended up going down a rabbit hole, instead. After I typed “writing” into the field, Google sprouted some of its handy-dandy suggestions, and the first
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Heather Masterson 