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There was this weird six months a whole bunch of years ago when I did background acting and stand-in work on television shows, which is where I super-briefly met Harold Ramis of Ghostbusters (and a whole bunch of other stuff) fame. As it turns out, that was enough time to be incredibly sorry that he’s…

The movers broke my desk in half. Literally, they broke it in half. The pieces, which they bothered to deliver to me, look like a fairy tale giant had a temper tantrum. I must assume it fell from a great height. Or the truck backed over it. Or somewhere between California and Wisconsin they had…

I moved. To Wisconsin. (Yes, in January.) Although perhaps one can’t properly say they’ve moved if they’re still living out of a hotel. Eloise made this sound like much more fun than it actually is. The sense of displacement is profound, and miniature shampoos and breakfast buffets with strangers only make it more so. There…

When I was a child — maybe 7 or 8 — and spending summer days at my grandmother’s house, we would have a new word every day. I got to pick. It had to be a word I didn’t know, and over the course of the day, I would learn its meaning and spelling. One…

Standing desk means writing with my feet firmly grounded. Head is another matter.

I’m pretty sure I’ve said the words “finished” and “edits” in the same sentence a dozen times in the last three months. Books are like that. You think you’re done, and then you sleep on it. Your agent sleeps on it. And then you decide Chapter Six really could be a little smoother, punchier, faster,…

I am on the 3,457 draft of my current book-in-progress, which is why I sometimes look crazy and homeless. My agent will be prying the manuscript out of my hands soon, which means I should probably be thinking up a title. This isn’t to say it doesn’t have one. It does. I’ve typed words there…

It’s summertime. There’s really no denying it, and here in L.A., it will last until almost Halloween. The thought of this makes me want to throw myself face first onto the couch with a chest-rattling sob. Summer has never been kind to me. My childhood memories include the bottle of neon green aloe vera gel…

Ya’ll, LOSING CLEMENTINE was short-listed for the Balcones Fiction Prize. I’m so pleased I could bust. Huge congratulations to the winner, Hanna Pylvainnen, for We Sinners. I’m going to celebrate my runner-up status with a tiara and a cookie. You know what? TWO cookies. This is special. I’m in fantastic company. The whole short list was: Relative…