Created for Necessity, Employed for Passion

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet"

Let's build a world. Explore what we believe by writing. In many ways my characters’ experiences with fate, destiny and free-will mirror my own. What is up to us and what isn’t? It’s one of the great questions of the human experience, I think. But no matter what is for us to control, we must own the identity. You’re a writer if you write. Period. Writing is a lovely way to spend one’s time. Enjoy it. And I hope you enjoy my writing here.

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Remembering The Writing

Sometimes I forget about the writing. Or, I should say: sometimes I'm so caught up in being an author, that I forget about being a writer.

Being an author is cool. It's also strange. You do things like answer a lot of emails, and plan events, and look at covers. You talk about schedules and deadlines and money. There are a lot of people involved. It's kind of what I imagine being a celebrity is like except when you're an author no one cares what you look like, or who you're dating. You also don't go on cool tropical vacations where people photograph you.

But you are at the center of something.

You write this book alone, and then slowly, or all at once, people start becoming a part of it. An agent, an editor. A publicist. Sometimes other agents, foreign teams. There is marketing and sales and then reviewers and bloggers. It slips from your hands out into the world and you don't get it back.

Do you want it back? Not really, no. This was the point all along. But somehow, even still, that offers little solace.

What offers solace is simple: writing. It's the putting words on the page, the doing the thing, that is what really matters. Anne Lamott in her book Bird by Bird says the following: "Publication is not all that it is cracked up to be. But writing is."

It's true, it is. Sometimes I forget that. Sometimes I get so lost in the emails and questions and the five-year plan that I forget it's really all about the writing. That I love it more than I love anything else. That it is the best gift I have ever been given in this life. Better than a book deal. Better than the book on the shelf.

That's when I pick up Bird by Bird or On Writing and I let them remind me. Sometimes we need other authors to remind us that we are really writers.



Thursday, February 16, 2012

Fashion Week!

I got to do some fun stuff for fashion week--- one of which was walk in a fashion show! It was a super cool event put on by Monopoly and Junk Food and featuring some awesome designers. It was totally a blast. Here is a video of me strutting the catwalk!

You can't see this, but just as I came out I high fived with the model that was coming up the runway. I felt just like Carrie Bradshaw!

I was happy to return to being a real person today, though. I much prefer my PJ's to stilettos.

Happy Thursday,


Sunday, February 12, 2012

Hellos and Goodbyes

Today I said goodbye to my best friend. She's moving to another city, and I will greatly miss her. I will miss a lot of things about her--- those warm hugs, brunch on a Sunday--- but most of all I will miss the spontaneity of our friendship. The afternoon drop-by coffee. The dinner at my apartment. How we'd meet for drinks with 15 minutes notice, and spend three hours talking.

We said goodbye on the street corner this afternoon, and when the light changed, she walked away. Not for good, I know that. There will be visits, there will be Skype dates. There will be gchats. But something is changing, and in that moment, I felt it-- I felt it all.

Hannah, in many ways, introduced me to New York. I met her my first week here. I showed up in her office as a prospective intern--- fresh from Los Angeles with a cardigan around my shoulders in 100 degree heat. Hannah took me in, but it was slow. Our friendship unfolded with the seasons. It was a year before I was really in, I think. But when you're in, you're in. She showed me her city-- the one she has lived in her whole life, and that I was a stranger to. Her favorite restaurants, book stores. The New York City Ballet. How to cross The Park at 66th street. That Amsterdam was on the west side. She'd often send me directions to places we were meeting, or guide me step by step on how to get home.

Many things have happened in five years. Break-ups and boyfriends and jobs and a published novel, but the one thing that has remained consistent is her presence in my life--- in my New York life.

So we said goodbye. To this chapter, anyway. And I cried. I cried so much a stranger stopped me on the street. This lovely woman with big, brown eyes and cashmere-clad hands.
"What's wrong, darling?" she asked me.
"I just said goodbye to my best friend," I said.
She nodded, took my hand in hers. "You'll see her again."
"I know," I sniffed. I gulped back some sobs.
"It's not goodbye," she said. "It's until next time."
Then this perfect stranger hugged me. She put her arms around me and I lay my head on her shoulder.
When I turned to leave she was reluctant to let go of my hand. "Do you know where you're going?" she asked me, concern in her eyes.
"Yes," I said. "I do."

I know where Amsterdam is now. I know that my favorite restaurant doesn't take reservations, and if I go past 7 pm, I'll have no chance of getting in. But most importantly, I know how to get home.

I'll miss you, HBG. Safe travels.