I arrived in New York Monday night. It was dark and cold and I will admit to feeling a little intimidated, but there’s an energy to this city that’s infectious. By the time I dropped my things at the airbnb, bought some flowers at the corner bodega and caught an Uber to the apartment of an old college buddy for a late dinner, I was giddy with excitement.
A big part of my fantastic attitude is that I’m here on business. I have meetings with my agent and my publisher, and I just have this deep sense of living the dream. I am a writer in New York, meeting with people who care about my work. I mean, how fabulous is that? Even the stupidly frigid temperatures can’t bring me down.
Yesterday morning while walking (scurrying) to the subway station, I saw a little white dog with red booties. I helped up an old woman who slipped on the ice. A man shoveling snow yelled out “this is America!” for no discernible reason as I walked past. I figured out the metro all by myself (it’s actually really easy) and got myself uptown to the Met where I popped in my headphones and spent a few hours wondering around listening to cello music and soaking up the art.
I took an Uber through the park (yes, it was only a mile, but it’s REALLY cold) so I could walk past the Dakota, which felt like a literary pilgrimage as I am reading Tom Barbarsh’s new novel The Dakota Winters, then had chicken soup in a little cafe where I sat reading said book and watching the snow fall outside.
In short, it’s been a fantastic trip so far. This morning I’m meeting the agent for breakfast, then cutting across town to my publishers office. I’m hoping my editor has had a chance to read those edits I worked so hard on so we can discuss how the book is coming along.
Tune in next week and I’ll let you know how it all goes.
A few years ago I quit drinking. It’s changed my life, honestly. I sleep better, I’m more patient with my kids, and my writing improved on two fronts. The first was that I had an easier time getting up in the morning to write (no brainer, that one). The second was that I came to understand myself a little better. When I could no longer just drink away my frustrations I had to actually look at what was bothering me and deal with it. It’s a skill that translates well to understanding characters. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that I finally finished my novel after quitting drinking. 
This morning I submitted the final edits of my manuscript to my editor. I’ve been working on it since November first (with a few weeks off there in December while the kids were on vacation), and it blows my mind that I could spend that much time editing something that, last January, I thought was done. 
I have three weeks until the latest draft of novel is due to my editor and I’m surfing some serious waves of self doubt. I look at what’s on the page and I think “how did I ever get a book deal?” Then I turn the page and I think “actually, this isn’t all bad.” Then I turn another page and congratulate myself on being fucking brilliant. Then I start the cycle over again. 
Over the past nine years I have used this platform to share what I’ve learned about the craft of writing as I worked toward finishing my manuscript, finding an agent and selling my debut novel. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about the act of expressing ideas in writing and so I’m very excited to announce that, starting next week, I will be teaching an in-person class on creative writing at my 
I went to a reading in November at Skylight Books to hear Wayétu Moore discuss her recent debut novel 
If you’ve been a writer for any length of time you’ve probably heard people argue about writing every day. 
Well, it’s officially December, and for a lot of writers out there that means 
I was doing some freelance work a while back, working with a small marketing team, and I was lamenting the prevalence of double spaces after periods. It’s a pet peeve of mine. The woman I was working with, who was about fifteen years younger than me, voiced her theory that people tend to hit the space bar twice because that’s how texting works (for the old fogies who don’t know, if you hit the space bar twice while you’re texting, you automatically get a period – very handy). 
