The Bones are Strong

Last night I finished a personal essay. One thousand one hundred and ninety eight words, as it stands.  I had to drink a lot of whiskey.

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I almost didn’t write it, but I was kindly bullied by a Twitter friend. She gave me a deadline. She encouraged me. She put me on the spot.

Like Lizzy Bennet, I never avoid challenges. I laugh in the face of danger. Until I cry.  Continue reading

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New Tricks

The thing about social media, about using it, is that people can respond to each other. That’s the whole point. But sometimes I forget that I’m speaking to other people and instead pretend I’m speaking to myself. I send statuses and tweets into the ether expecting nothing. For sure, this makes me feel better if no one “Likes” or “Favorites” or “Hearts” something I say or post. But also, it freaks me out when people actually do respond.

Last night I tweeted:

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Nandini responded. Continue reading

If You Read this and Wonder WTF

The thing about most autobiographical nonfiction is that the narrator is rarely alone. There are always other people and because nonfiction is, in theory, based on reality, those other people exist. And so when I wrote “Eve” it was hard for not me to wonder if my ex-boyfriend would every see it or wonder how he would feel about it. The truth is if I think too hard about who or what I’m writing about I probably wouldn’t write it.

But anyways, I’m excited to have this piece published at Nailed magazine and I’m excited that the first thing I published of nonfiction is so damn bold.