It was yesterday when Facebook posts were either inner monologues or rib-tickling, witty remarks on a good day. I still look forward to Instagram captions that aren’t too far from diary entries, ones that do not yield to back-and-forth harangues in the comment section, but rather support, or better, no comments at all. Just space. But why can’t we just listen? Holding space for others is not natural. Because while we itch and fidget with this relentless dire need to speak over listen, nothing, let alone effective, gets transmitted to the receiving end. The ego merely does not exist, it…
Category: Blog
When writing subplots and what they’ve taught me.
Subplots are windows of opportunity that help with a story’s progression. When written and handled thoughtfully, they can cater to a story naturally without sounding superfluous. I imagine that a lot of subplots are written merely by accident (you know, when we want to kill someone off or weave in a love triangle). As an art of complex storytelling, subplots have taught me several lessons, besides adding depth to the central story arc and a deeper meaning to a story. They provide freedom for authors to flesh out characters, themes and conflicts. Subplots offer writers a chance to add twists…
David Foster Wallace Talks Talent, the Inferiority Complex and Being a ‘Literary Heavyweight’
I’ve been reading Although Of Course You End Up Becoming Yourself by David Lipsky, a book in a transcript/interview format that tells the exchange between Rollingstone reporter and editor David Lipsky and Infinite Jest author, David Foster Wallace. They take a road trip. They sit with his dogs. They confess. They tell and find common ground. I am the backseat passenger, the customer behind two dudes in line engaging in brilliant conversations that consumes me. Like being on the outside looking in, being incredibly drawn even though I can’t keep up with every inside joke, every esteemed piece of literature….
Another rant, another page not written
It’s Day 106 of not having written. The other day, after reading, I tried and just grew frustrated. I placed my fingertips on the keys and made a funny expression into the screen where my reflection tried mocking me. I thought, How am I supposed to feel reading something like that and trying to write something like this?! Maybe my source of inspiration has let me down or has reached its expired date. Maybe this one no longer speaks to me. Maybe it’s too close to home, or I have to live it out further. I oscillate between aspiring to…
18 Introspective Quotes for Pensive Writers
If you’ve reflected all your life, then you’re no stranger to finding deep meaning in books, writing and other forms of expression. From simple sentences to an entire symphony, you connect, as though you long to or are already a part of the subject matter. It’s a quirk, a tendency, a hobby you instinctively do. By staring too long at spaces and things, parsing out the unseen, rationalizing with the arrival of feelings while trying to untangle the framework before you, you’re rewarded a profound understanding, a truth, a refreshing outlook or reality. Seeing isn’t enough; you need to know…
The Trouble With Marketing Yourself as a Writer
The trouble with marketing ourselves, as writers, is that it’s awkward. Like trying to use a computer mouse with our left hand. We try to stay true to our convictions: to lead a more intentional life, to make conscious decisions and above all, to live slowly. But it seems as though, at this rate, many of us have sold the best parts of ourselves to consumerism, to trends, the good looking, popularity and prestige. Where do I fall into this mess? Am I floundering? Yes. We want to reach the right readers and to connect with them, but we can’t…
Checking in
I haven’t written anything in weeks. W E E K S. Although I’ve been feeling and thinking all the time about everything, nothing gets down on paper and only goes as far as a drafted text message that goes unsent. I’m tired (to put it at best). Sometimes, I’ll stare off in the distance as my son cries and I’ll almost hear the silence. I’ve decided to surrender to the process part of the process. This, right here. This, the feeling, right now. There’s no sense in locking horns. I welcome it peacefully. I’m reassessing. Shifting some things around. Reflecting…
Can I Be Real? Confessions of a Mom-Writer.
I carry him, wanting him to hang tight because tomorrow he’ll turn eighteen, and then I won’t see him for months on end. Leggy New York models and his sybaritic lifestyle will steal our attention. He’ll be coming home on Thanksgivings only to tell me that my rendition of turkey is getting less and less dry every year, and he’ll kiss me on the cheek anyway. He may have to crouch over because somehow during my prosaic, languorous life, I have shrunk over time. I’ll learn to settle for weekly calls (if I’m lucky) of his breathing, one-word responses on…
Writing Prompt No. 3 – Garden Square on Tenth
Mr. Cromwell always drew the curtains of his window, where his unit sat right above the Romero’s whose daughter I used to date back in ’93. Some say he was allergic to the sun while others assumed the daylight aggravated his depression. Every time I pedaled my way across his once-dilapidated apartment building in my fixed-speed bicycle, I’d see his shades drawn. I was sure his curtains were stained by the sunlight from being drawn so often. At night, when I’d make my way home, after picking up Mom’s medication from the Pine Street corner pharmacy, I’d catch Mr. Cromwell’s…
Finn’s Girl, Ruby – The Theme of Self-Love
Finn’s Girl, Ruby explores the theme of self-love. Kaplan, whose favorite movie is True Romance and who has ditched a career as a lawyer to pursue photography, keeps Madison at bay. A tortured artist to describe him in the least, he effortlessly remains an enigma—displaying only that tip of the iceberg—because, like many of us, he feels as though he has barely made it this far in life merely by tailoring himself to others. By shaping ourselves around others, we feel desirable and interesting because, hell, if others were to discover the kind of person we believe or think we are,…