What could a pair of Disney princesses and the COO of Facebook have in common? In a Venn diagram of girls and words, of rebellion and equality, there’s more overlap than you’d imagine.
Last month, I broke a promise to my husband. It was a vow we’d made together, many years ago, when we swore we’d never pass our bad habits to our kids.
Inscrutable, blasé, they are uninterested in deadlines, tangled plots or characters who have fallen out of line.
As a writer and a reader, I’m a scavenger of words, their roots sunk deep in time. I dig through layered meanings, brush the ragged edges of long-forgotten definitions, frilled and feathered connotations.
A good day writing is like a high tide, full to bursting with the motion of ideas. On those days, I scribble madly, relishing the depths, the fluid grace of words.
I am a wretched juggler, often late and usually forgetful. But, for all the balls I drop while writing, my husband and my kids are still my cheering squad, my pit crew, and my refuge.
Once upon a long-ago, I hurled high school algebra against the wall. It’s the only time I’ve ever thrown a book.
One of my favorite bits of advice for writers is to “write the book you’d like to read”. In that case, I’ll write wonder chambers, cabinets of curiosities. I like books that question the placement of dividing lines, books that throw me unexpected curves.
True confession? I’ve never been a porn star. I’m not even a good dancer.
Show and tell is theater. As writers, we can’t help but love it. Like children, we harbor indeterminate, odd wonders. The idea that slips inside a pocket. The fringe of inspiration. We collect words like talismans – tessellation, shambolic, caducity – and cup them in our palms.
