Monday, August 13, 2018

Hannah Gadbsy's 'Nanette' Isn't Funny—Here's Why You Should Watch It Anyway



My very first byline (under my real name, but that's another story) with a media outlet I actually read, and admire, and think has something to contribute to the conversation we're all having about culture, and about misogyny, and about what the heck to do about it.

Today, frankly, is one of those days that I'm proud to be a writer, and so grateful there are talented folks putting things out there into the world for me to think about and comment on. Thanks Hannah Gadsby, thanks BUST, and thanks to all my friends who let me yak on and on and on about this comedy special for a week straight (you know who you are!). 

Wednesday, July 18, 2018

How to tell your brand story in a single sentence

In my second post for Marketsmiths.com, I recommend how to think like a storyteller in order to convey everything your company is about, in just a few choice words. 

Tuesday, July 3, 2018

I'm a Linkedin contributor!


These articles for Linkedin may not be the most entertaining or inspired of my career, but dang if I'm not excited by the bylines! They're for the Linkedin Talent Blog, a solid resource for HR professionals and a gateway to a ton of Linkedin content and professional software tools.  




Of course, the trick to writing on just about any topic is research. I could have written these without expertise, but in this case, I had help: I worked for a talent manager about a decade ago in the entertainment industry but also, more recently as a marketer for a B2B SaaS company where I was tasked with boosting brand signal for the purposes of talent acquisition and recruitment. 

As a now freelance writer, nothing thrills me more than recycling past life skills to further my copywriting credentials. And I got a really clean, lovely author page to boot. 

Thanks, Linkedin

Friday, June 8, 2018

Wednesday, November 29, 2017

8 Things 'I Love Dick' Got Right About Non-Monogamy




One weekend I binged-watched a show I wasn't even sure I liked, and had so many thoughts about it they got written down and published on Bust.com. Righteous! 

Tuesday, January 24, 2017

Belonging

Women thirsty for friendship can find each other the way a swift wind spins into a tornado—it is fast, and it can be final. 

Sometimes there's a reluctance in it, a hesitation. Did I choose this family, or did it choose me? 

Because I see you: I see your failings, I see your specialness. I see your soul—and mine agrees. 

If belonging is a decision as much as an avalanche, then then I will bury us in intention and claim you for my own. 

If it's circumstance—just a strong wind from the north, a snow that will maybe melt and fade—belonging to you, even for now, feels like the most beautiful, sparkling summer: too short, already memorable, and so, so warm.  

Let's always meet here, in this summer garden. 


Monday, January 23, 2017

The Best Worst Time

What does it mean, crossing over into a new day? 'Midnight' seems like such an arbitrary line, a single mile marker on the long stretch of highway between cocktails and dawn. We sure do give it a lot of attention, though. 

It's by far the most serious of deadlines, the most shameful of snacks. The mere stroke of it can turn you in, turn you out, or get the night turnt. For the more pious, midnight is only for screenings or Christmas Mass; any later and you're up to no good—or the no-good is up to you. No bar crawl or house fight ever looks good past midnight; decisions past 12am are the stuff police blotters and Moth stories are made of. Because this is the razor edge of night: the crack where black cats haunt, where nightmares slip in. 

Yep, once realized, midnight nags you like a narc, a ticking cloud of over the rest of your evening, a curse you can shut out but not off. And when you finally do get home, if sleep's sheep are too far afield, midnight's approach and passing is the anxiety-inducing hours by the window waiting for their return.

Not that I have anything against it, really. It's not midnight's fault we blame it for our misdeeds, for missed curfews and alarms. The poor hour gets buried in sleep, demoted to the least productive part of the day. At least, for most. 

But to me, a Writer, this is dark refuge. Furthest from frenetic noon, midnight stands in opposition: a place to stop and listen, a deep well of oily ink, the fuel I find most reliable when time slips away. Midnight is the rich soil I sow ideas for tomorrow's plucking, even as it keeps me from sleep. 

Once over the irritating specificity of it, it's easy to find luxurious moments here, at the bottom of night. Still houses, fresh starts. The low, long chime of a grandfather clock. Prayers and melodies. Love and clarity. 

Lost in conversation with an old friend, midnight's the hour you exclaim over for having come so quickly. And wow, what a show-stopper on the eve of New Year's day! I know from experience: it's twitchiest, witchiest hour to ring in a first, lingering kiss. 

Midnight, you are the boldest of night; do not shelter me from slumber but from fear, lust, loneliness, heartache. Though an uncertain salve, you and you alone are my dark day's tonic.