I sell my work for money, like a dentist or a house painter. I am a professional. That means I won’t work for someone else to profit while I get nothing. That’s not what professionals do. If that means I’m not gracious or generous, so be it.
A profound and lyric essay by Lise MacTague that resonated with me and I think will with many of you.
We know we’re the lucky ones because we’ve survived. It could be worse. But many of the things we feel “lucky” for are things no one should have to endure.
The pretty. So pretty.
I was enjoying the great outdoors at the mall, like you do, and had the opportunity to wield my Superpower. Not the writing one, the other one.
Astronaut and Scientist Sally Ride’s statue may represent California in the Capitol Statuary Hall and she’d be the first openly LGBT person figured there.
If your neighborhood store carries the kinds of books you are writing or plan to write, then that bookseller knows the answer to the question, “What are my potential readers looking for these days?”
If any of these things happened to you or your friend or your child, what would you call it? I call it hate.
When an openly out straight woman insists Sally Ride should have stayed in the closet even after she died…