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!

A Conversation With Myself

Ok, it’s 8:40am and the kid is asleep.What do I do with this unexpected mommy time? Laundry is done, bills are paid, dishes are clean so I can write, I can read, or I can watch TV. I really should write. I haven’t written anything in more than a week.

Reading, it is. What are you up to now, Albus Potter?

Absurd and Delicious

Thank God I don’t make my money from writing because I haven’t written anything in a week but haikus and six word stories on Twitter from my phone while the kid was doing something less likely to be dangerous somehow. For me, writer’s block is an excellent reason to catch up on Kimmy Schmidt and laundry and between block and the kiddo’s short naps, that’s about all I’m getting done during the day.

I love Tina Fey. More so, I love funny feminists. You can declare yourself a person worthy of respect and still enjoy life, second-wavers. You can also have sex and wear skirts and shave whatever part of your body you want to shave, girl. And while you’re doing all of that, you can make a great, subtly empowering Netflix show full of Frasier references and absurd comedy that delights and entertains. We should all be so lucky to have that kind of talent.