T’is the season to do a million things (good, great, exhausting, hair-pulling-annoying) but one I find the most relaxing is finding (and recommending) small shops, artists, and craftspeople. Below are
First, there was Vaseline on the camera lens. Next up was rose-colored lighting, shooting through pantyhose, and soft focus. And then came Photoshop. No one tells the truth, of course,
My sister and I are great liars. World-class liars. Maybe we were born with the trait (after all, our paternal grandmother’s top hobby was shoplifting.) Brooklyn-born Great-Aunt Sally (Jewish, like
Unmitigated panic. Unrelenting fear. Ulcer-inducing worry. A year ago my book was launching and I should have been on cloud nine. I was realizing a life-long dream at a time
If you read as I do (unceasingly, never sticking to any one genre, and always with a backup book (or ten) just in case, you’re always seeking books to
I tried to think of a, um, sexier title for this post, but they all sounded, um, icky, and the last thing I want when I’m writing about sex
Unless one’s made of stone and iron, having writing a novel (Waisted) based on extreme body-shaming & how the eyes of others scorch women, must change one, yes? Pair that
by Sahar Abdulaziz I stand, transfixed, staring into the mirror at a face I no longer recognize, at a body that has housed my soul for fifty-plus years, birthed
by Lauren J. Sharkey It started small—having to catch my breath after going up the stairs, needing to recline my car seat back an inch…going up a size. “You
By Stephanie English I stopped believing in God when I was stick-thin, and have been tempted to reconsider since ballooning to twice my size. The God I hear about
I grew up with the idea that the size of my body was the most important thing in the world—and that my body was always too large. When I
What to expect when you’re expecting your book? What’s going to happen first, and second, and third? Pre-launch of my debut novel, the breadth of information I had to learn
I can’t imagine I am the first person to come up with the above title, but I can think of no other way to express my admiration for this book.
“If I can make it there, I’ll make it anywhere.” I sing those words to newly-purchased plants I drive them home. My garden, rather than a zone of tender nurturance
Four years ago, at an event at the incredibly wonderful Reading Public Library (in Reading Massachusetts) one of the librarians bought my second novel book, The Comfort of Lies, for her
Roman à clef is a form of fiction I’ve always enjoyed reading, from Primary Colors to The Devil Wears Prada). Encyclopaedia Britannica defines roman à clef like this: (French:
What’s the word for impotent worry activated by reading the morning paper? When your mind swirls with horror at people’s pain and you think of how you can effect, perhaps,
Between pretending to be perfect mothers (and fathers) the reality of flawed (real) moms lay murky truth: We always love our children; we don’t always love being mothers. We’re
The first time I read in public, (a Grub Street open mike event at the now-defunct Johnny D’s in Somerville, Massachusetts) I flopped. I failed. I sucked. Years later (no more
Re-reading . . . how do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love the guaranteed happiness (how often does one get that?); I love meeting old friends
Could it be possible that our lust for the bad boys—a hunger which begets dreams that bear nightmares—begins the night we aim our reading flashlights on Rhett Butler and his
About a million years ago I read (a now out of date) mystery, Gastronomic Murder, by Alexandra Roudybush (look for this book. I got a second-hand copy recently. Try the
Stories of survival fill me with shivery delight. I rarely meet a story of man/woman/elements that doesn’t keep me up till all hours—it’s no doubt one of my favorite sub-genres.
 “Don’t forget; Jewish people read an enormous amount,†my lovely (and Jewish) literary agent said before my book launch. “We really love books.†I nodded. Yes, I knew that—at least