Writing with (and without) Despair

Quote from Charles Bukowski
Tuesday, December 15, 2015

We’re writing about those dark places this week, which feels apropos here in New England where, as my son gleefully announced every night for eight nights, “It’s 4:12 p.m.! Sunset! We can do Hanukkah!” I face my morning runs with extreme trepidation, as I go at 6 a.m., but since sunrise isn’t until after 7 a.m., I am wary of cars and holes in sidewalks and tree branches (in October,…



At this point in my life, I’m practically immune to embarrassment. I spent the first twenty-odd years of my life completely humiliating myself on a regular (read: weekly daily HOURLY) basis. Strangely, when I started thinking about this week’s topic, I drew a complete blank. “I don’t think I’ve ever embarrassed myself!” I said. “What about the time you got hit by a car?” my wife asked helpfully. “The time…

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Deb Elise’s Wild Terror of New Beginnings

Creatively, there’s not much that’s more daunting than a totally blank page waiting for you to spin it into either gold… or crap.  Those are of course the only options — each blank page will either catapult your career to that coveted next level, or reveal you for the fraud you truly are. Know what helps me?  Writing freelance, and having all kinds of deadlines. Since I still have all…

Monday, January 3, 2011

On Balance, a.k.a. The Blog Post Deb Elise Should Not Write

There are some topics on which I have no right to blog: Raising twins (don’t have ’em), Skydiving (won’t do it), Sword-Swallowing (ow)… Yet even considering all those, probably the topic on which I have the least right to blog is Balance, and I mean that in every sense of the word.  I will fall over if I try to do tree pose, I’m too impatient to find that perfect…

Monday, December 6, 2010

Middle Me This By Deb Anna

My mother has always told me I should be grateful that I’m not the middle child — a statement she’s been forced to trot out every time I’ve complained about being the youngest, which has been fairly often. The fact that there was no middle child in our family hasn’t seemed all that relevant. Being the baby gets a good rap; you’re allegedly showered in affection, can do no wrong…

Monday, July 9, 2007

Breasts and Gravity by Deb Eileen

Sometimes in life you discover the meaning of the cliche- be careful what you wish for, you might just get it. Growing up one of my favorite authors was Judy Blume. I didn’t read her books, I consumed them. Anyone who has read her books recalls the scene in “Are you there God? It’s me Margaret”  where the main character in a desperate bid to develop breasts, does chicken wings…

Friday, June 22, 2007

Burn Baby Burn…

Those who read my blog know I’ve been on a rant this week. I came across a news story last weekend about a book store that was burning books. BURNING BOOKS. I couldn’t imagine any greater horror. I am physically incapable of throwing away a book. It doesn’t matter how bad it is, I still can’t bring myself to throw it out. I’ll do my best to foist the book…

Friday, June 8, 2007

Astronomy and Astrology

Science was never my subject. I considered myself artsy and science not creative.  In University we had to have a set number of science credits in order to graduate. I was really excited to sign up for Astronomy. My family and friends were a bit surprised by my enthusiasm and downright shocked when I told them that astronomy had been a long standing interest of mine. In the weeks before…

Friday, May 4, 2007

Dreaminess by Deb Anna

It seems a rather optimistic and extreme move to make — downright ballsy, as a matter of fact — but I’m going to go ahead and pick the protagonist of the book I’m currently reading as my favorite literary character. Is it because I’m positive he’s the ultimate, be-all, end-all character, filled with nuances and quirks and thoughts that none I’ve encountered before has possessed? No. But after just a…

Monday, March 19, 2007

At Mr. Perry’s

It was the seventies and Mr. Perry was a very flamboyant gentleman with huge hair and an equally large mustache.  He wore shiny, too-tight shirts with wide lapels, and brightly colored bell-bottoms. Mr. Perry would coo and cluck and tend to my grandmother, always calling her Dr. Howard, never Laura.  (She loved this.)  She sipped a glass of champagne while he cut and set her hair.  Meanwhile, his “girls” would…

Wednesday, February 14, 2007