I Had A Dream About Angels Last Night. Or Like This Morning Depending On Your View Because I Woke Up

I am constantly dragging my sister into long-ass phone calls and cornering her at family dinners.

She is the wall at which I throw things to see what sticks or, even better, what bounces back with improvements made

the most powerful writing tool is actually Brainstorming With The Girls

now say it with me: authors/artists dont owe you moral purity. an author/artist job is not to hold you by the hand & tell you exactly what is Good™ & what is Bad™. you should be able to think for yourself

i know i've said this before but i'm going to say it again because the more i work with geriatric women the stronger i feel about the fact that the only anti-aging that women in their 20s/30s should be obsessed with is building strong bones and muscle mass. that's like the most important thing you can you can do right now to lay a good foundation for healthy aging. you can botox the shit out of your face but that's not going to do anything to save you from dying prematurely from a fatal hip fracture that you can't bounce back from because you didn't do anything to prevent yourself from becoming frail and breakable. like i know that sounds harsh but that is reality for a lot of older women and i don't want that to be you.

marie howe, in an interview with krista tippett of on being

do people have no shame anymore?

one of my worst writing sins is abusing my power to create compound words. i cannot write the sentence "The sun shone as bright as honey that afternoon." no. that's boring. "The sun was honey-bright that afternoon" however? yes. that sentence is dope as fuck. i do not care if "honey-bright" is a word in the english dictionary. i do not care if the sentence is grammatically correct. i will not change. i will not correct my erred ways. the laws of the english language are mine.

Unique vintage male names, companion to this post:

There are less of them because people seemed to be less creative with naming their sons. Not sure why.

the most humbling experience of being a writer is when you spend hours writing and think you wrote 10k words but it was actually more like 400. and then you do it again

To The Person At The Bus Stop Holding A Bouquet of Red Roses by Jordan Bolton

Part of Scenes From Imagined Films Issue 3 - Order now on Etsy

here are some interesting surnames I have seen on old graves:

*they’re not inherently “weird” or “rare”, they’re just names I noted for possible future use in my writing