The Writer’s NEW YEARS RESOLUTIONS FROM HELL Challenge: Do It or Suffer!

ATTENTION NON-WRITING TROLLS: 2014 Is Your Year! It’s Go-Time. It’s do-or-die time! Time to separate the wheat from the chaff. Time to put your money where your mouth is, wherever it is (unless your mouth is presently occupied with something other than talking. In that case, Ewwwgross.). Time to make a writer of yourself…or move on with your life.

In fact, in 2014, if you call yourself a writer and you aren’t writing, you may no longer USE the words “WRITE”, “RIGHT” in conversation, or even “WRIGHT” for that matter, which will suck if you’re into woodworking. Oy. Good luck with that.

And just HOW EXACTLY, you ask, are we going to do THAT?  Well, we’re going to make resolutions (Boo. Boring. Yawn. Scratch. Fart.) Wait! I’m not finished! We aren’t talking about your pedestrian, garden variety resolutions. Oh no, mister. We’re talking about:


(thunder clap/shrill scream/maniacal laughter)

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The Obligatory “Holiday Gifts For The Writer You Love” Blahg

Why Oh Why Oh Why Oh Why for the love of Christmas am I churning out this trite “What To Buy Your Weird Writer Friend For The Holidays” blahg that populates every nook and cranny of the blog-o-sphere this week? Because if I don’t, a black, windowless van will pull up to my place, then three will men get out, kick down my door and storm inside. Two of them will rough me up, push me to the floor and stand on my neck while the third spray paints filthy epithets all over my walls. Then they will jam my fear-soiled underpants into the paper shredder and leave. That’s why. Lotta people don’t know that. Dangerous business, writing. Continue reading

How to Be An Awesome Writer When You Aren’t Writing

Lets get this straight from jumpstreet. The only time you shouldn’t be writing is when you’re sleeping or dead (and no, showering is no excuse, you lazy turd. Ever hear of waterproof pens?!?).

If that is, you are a flawless FUEL INJECTED TURBO CHARGED WORD SPEWING MACHINE. If you are, good for you. Asshole.

But you’re not. You’re a broke-down hoopdie with a bad carburator and a droopy tailpipe. It’s why you’re here, hiding out from the writing matrons in your head like moody Goth teenagers behind the high school gym. Continue reading