The Best Thing I’ve Never Written

I’ll tell you what: if Buzzfeed starts banging out the Mad Libs-style fun quiz, I’m never leaving that site again.

Here’s my favorite part of the dystopian YA novel Buzzfeed helped me write while I should have been real writing my Camp NaNo project:

The Chaperones began placing memory erasing coffee k-cups on the temples of all children. Rythe saw this and knew she must make her escape. She had heard a fable in her earlier years told by the children at her school, when the New Government was gaining control. Apparently there was a code to deactivate their android creations. What was that rhyme they used to chant around the schoolyard? Then Rythe remembered. She stood up and recited: “toenail, third rail, 001, jury duty, big ole booty, 001.” Suddenly, all Chaperones dropped their bottles and cans and stood up in unison, then left the room.


Toenail, third rail, 001
Jury duty, big ole booty, 001

That’s poetry.


From My Cot in the Laundry Room

I just now realized that today is the first day of Camp NaNoWriMo and I have absolutely no idea what the hell I’m doing.

Part of the reason I’m distracted is because I’m mad at my spouse.

And I just saw an ad for a real book written by a fake character on a show I like which is just… not fair. It’s not fair that fake people get to make real books.

Image result for the marriage vacation

I hate her simpering smile and her stupid face. 

So the obvious solution to all of my problems is to write a much less sexy, much more sad establishment of a Space of My Own story about how I too would like to take a vacation from my marriage but I’m not a rich selfish bland self-righteous jerkbitch who would ever leave her children so instead I just stay late at work and take an extra lap around Target for some Me Time before returning to my hermit corner to write something that’ll inevitably be ignored into obscurity on Amazon.

Obviously a best seller. Super talented. Feeling like a winner. Definitely not the saddest sack of potatoes in this cellar today.


Get Back to It or Buy That TP Holder

You know when you have a pretty clear couple of hours that you had intended to spend writing but then…

I’m hungry.

I should just check Twitter first.

This email has been sitting in my inbox for a month. Now seems like a good time to read it.

You know, I really haven’t checked out the new offerings on edX lately.

Maybe if I just start a new photobook on Shutterfly, I’ll be able to finish it later.

I really need to find a matching toothbrush holder for my bathroom.


Not sure what’s happening here but it captures my feelings of frustration with myself as well as my love of cozy-necked sweaters.

I wrote two actual sentences in the last 45 minutes.

I Too Am Non Blond

I’ve got two warring circumstances happening in my life right now that are combining to form an awesome fighting force of malcontentment bordering on mild depression: I can’t freaking sleep (because babies) and I can’t freaking write (because lack of sleep and babies).

To combat that, I take teeny tiny curled up on the couch cat naps until my toddler jumps on my face or my newborn screams bloody murder and I do some musical free writing. When I get 2 minutes, I put on a song and let whatever pent up emotional nonsense I’ve got out onto paper. I wrote a couple of nice pieces to Neil Young this week, actually.

So when I came across the Buzzfeed article 7 Songs That Helped Me With My Anxiety, I thought I scored a handy soundtrack to some creative writing therapy.

Not so. Not yet. Because I got stuck on the very first song, What’s Going On by 4 Non Blonds.


Instead of my own words pouring out, all I got was theirs. But I’ll tell you what: I am not complaining.

I loosened up that mom ponytail, blasted the volume and sang “at the top of my lungs”, sleeping babies be damned (only one was sleeping. The other is watching Halloween videos on my phone and couldn’t be more invested in Spookley the Square Pumpkin right now).

It worked though. Color me stress free… for the next few minutes at least. My GOD but that song is restorative. They should sell the single as a self-help system.

Of course NOW the baby is crying and the phone battery is running low and I’ve got to put my hair back up into a convenient mom bun to prevent child strangulation, but for those 5 minutes back there, I was starting to feel pretty good.


Useless Writer Fret Post

More blog posts get written when I need to procrastinate than any other time in the history of ever.

I only wrote like, 290 word so far (which is only impressive if you see my stats from yesterday) and they’re not great but I don’t care. I just want to get them out. I just want to finish this damn story.

Part of me wishes I had started something new for Camp NaNoWriMo because I feel like I could be more excited for a new story with new characters that I don’t know so well yet. But I need to finish this one. I NEED TO. It’s driving me nuts.

Why can’t this woman just resolve her issues and move on? Why does she keep talking to me? Why do more things keep coming up? How far have I actually strayed from the original premise? Should I go back or just keep hiking this path and see where it takes me?

These are the things I’m thinking instead of just writing.


Losing the Groove

Today my son napped for 2 hours and 40 minutes. Guess how many words I got written in that amount of time! Just guess!!


0 words.

I ate lunch. I did the dishes. I napped. And that, friends, is a productive day for me. Being pregnant is seriously harshing my vibe, yo. It’s crushing my spirit. And my bladder. And with a minimum caffeine intake, there’s no more magic elixir to keep me up nights (or days, apparently) writing my heart out.

I’m over here like, thank God I’m not puking my heart out because that’s the best I can expect these days.

Any other pregnant writers out there losing their groove?


Motivate Thyself, Woman

I am a lump. I am a boiled potato of wasted potential. I am a mass of blankets on the couch repeating, “Bud, mommy feels yucky. Can you play by yourself for a little while?” every morning for the past 8 weeks*.

To say I “haven’t written much lately” is a gross understatement and I hate myself just a little bit for it. I’ve been hashtag gaming the same WIP for months now because I have nothing else to draw from. I’ve written down ideas but can’t get the story to come out. I’ve opened blank pages, and unfinished pages, and notebooks and still, I end up on Buzzfeed taking quizzes about food that tell me I’m 18 and single and will never have kids. It’s pathetic. And I’m tired of it.

So I signed up for Camp NaNoWriMo! I did it today. I don’t know what I’m going to write, but DAMNIT, I’m going to write SOMETHING.

Yeah! Take that, life! Take that low energy! Take that raging hormones and mood swings and that perpetual feeling of “am I going to puke or am I starving because I honestly can’t tell right now.”


NaNoooooo, it won’t end!

Yeah… writing 50,000 words and completing a novel are two totally different things. I can’t seem to finish this bad boy. Call it a consequence of pantsing it, but I don’t really know what the point of this story is. I don’t know what the logical conclusion is. But I super duper want it to end so I can move on with my life and my projects.

Total word count so far is 53,182.



State of the Writer

I’m juggling three WIPs with novel aspirations plus a handful of short stories, a few of which fit the theme of the compilation I’m trying to put together and my motivation to finish anything at all is about… I’ll say 20%. The motivation is present but the desire to act on it is not.


Part of it is “What am I doing this for?!” and part of it is, “I really should be doing other things,” and yet another part is, “I could use a new challenge.”

Let’s address them, shall we? Because this is my blog and I say so.



Like what, Eda? Laundry? I got a load in the washer and a load in the dryer; what more could you be doing about the laundry situation?

Cleaning the house? Pfft. You have a toddler. “Clean” is relative. Take 52 seconds and put some of the toys in buckets and VOILA, the house looks clean.

Calling the dentist? Yeah, you should do that. But you’re going to make your husband do it instead, so don’t worry about it.

Finding a way to make more money by working from home? No. Two jobs and a toddler is enough, woman. Give yourself a damn break.



Why are you writing? Because you’ve always wanted to and now you have the time and the community to share it with and free platforms to post it to and if you’re motivated enough, you can try to sell your work. So what if it doesn’t sell or no one reads it. Write it anyway, just for fun. Tell yourself a story. Get all those extraneous thoughts and What If scenarios out of your head and onto (digital) paper. Do it because you can and you like to and why not?



So could we all, girl, but you have a lot of challenges right now. Work, kid, life, dog-sitting. New challenge doesn’t need to be New Hobby (and you don’t have the money for a new hobby anyway). Read a new book. Download a new workout routine. Find a new iPhone app. Leave the big stuff like Get an MBA or Travel to Europe or Become a Certified Zumba Instructor for when you have more time and/or money.



Then chill. Watch an episode of Baywatch. Scroll through Buzzfeed and take a “Which Cheese Are You?” quiz. Then, when you’re done, go back to writing.

And if all else fails, write a blog post about why you don’t feel like writing. See? Now you’re written. Good job!