Attacus Atlas & Other Inventions: A Circuitous Route

Tuesday, September 18, 2018

A Circuitous Route:   The reflection of the world is blues, that’s where that part of the music is at  – Jimi Hendrix I have no way to express how stunned I am, sitting here today, holding my newly hatched ARCs. It is surreal to see this book in galley form, it is surreal to see my family hold my debut novel in their hands. By all accounts I should…

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Anna Mirabilis et Terribilis

Monday, August 27, 2018

Debuting is hard. This past year has felt, in many ways, like a crucible of anxiety. There’s so much build-up, so many expectations, and then such detritus left behind when the rush ebbs away. For someone already inclined to fret, this pretty swiftly became a Problem, and so a lot of the past year has been spent learning new techniques for managing my instincts for self-flagellation. Last week, my extended…

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FROM UNSEEN FIRE Release Eve

Monday, April 16, 2018

“So tedious is this dayAs is the night before some festivalTo an impatient child that hath new robesAnd may not wear them”–Juliet, Romeo and Juliet So tomorrow’s the day. I’ve wanted to be a novelist since I was 11. I’ve been working on this book for six and a half years. And tomorrow, it becomes real. Really, truly real. Is it okay to admit I sort of don’t know what…

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The Edit Letter and Other Obsessions

Tuesday, February 27, 2018

I spent months dreading my edit letter. One thing I excel at in particular is imagining the worst possible outcome in any situation, and then obsessing over it at two in the morning.  You may think two o’clock is an inconvenient time to obsess over edit letters and other things, but I’m here to tell you that is a very fine time indeed. First of all, no one else is…

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Self-Care from Poets and Artists

Monday, February 5, 2018

Self-care is not a thing I am great at. High-functioning anxiety means that I have a lot of trouble relaxing, and I feel guilty about it any time I even get close. There’s always something I should be doing, after all. Certainly always something else I could be doing. I try to absorb the good advice out there about self-care, and I try to take heart in inspirational aphorisms, but there’s…

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Missteps in Representation and Appropriation

Tuesday, January 23, 2018

I listened to a woman read a chapter from her romance novel about gay male truck drivers. Within a few minutes, it became glaringly obvious that she knew nothing about gay men or truck drivers. I was incensed—this was my community she was writing about so badly—but  I was also chagrined. I was reminded of my own 300-page gay romance novel I had written several years before. Like the author…

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Writing Through Distractions of the Small Child Variety

Tuesday, January 9, 2018

My emergence as a writer and a mother occurred nearly simultaneously—I was suddenly flooded with stories when I was pregnant with my second child, and my oldest was two years old. Writing for me has always involved coping with distractions of the small child variety.  Yet, I earned two college degrees and wrote over one thousand pages while mothering two small creatures over nearly a decade, and I like to…

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On Fear

Friday, November 3, 2017

Publishing is rife with fear. Fear of bad reviews, fear of being dragged, fear of being forgotten or never published again or having our books canceled. And the thing is, some of these fears will, inevitably, be realized. We writers aren’t perfect, and the publishing industry certainly isn’t perfect. Something is bound to go wrong. I realize that, as I write this, I’m in the calm before the storm. I’m done…

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An Essay on Fear

Tuesday, October 31, 2017

I have always been afraid. Whispering thoughts circle my head at night—so many things I’ve done, words I’ve said that I can’t take back. How my choices might hurt my children—the things that I can’t undo as well as the things that I don’t want to undo. I wonder what people really think about me, and who they tell. Will my children overhear them? It’s not lies I am afraid…

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The Conquest of It

Monday, October 30, 2017

I really don’t like talking about fear. Oh, little fears, sure. I detest rollercoasters because I’m sure they’re going to break and kill me, I’ve been known to dive under picnic tables to get away from wasps which are clearly dark minions sent forth from the bowels of hell, and my horror of open water has been reinforced for decades by nightmares and augmented by that time my baby sister almost…

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