The Temptress Wears Yoga Pants, Or the Not Stupid Reason I Don’t Wear Yoga Pants in Public

My Facebook feed turned up this little gem on Friday about Christian blogger Veronica Partridge, a woman who is not wearing yoga pants in public as they might inspire lustful feelings in men other than her husband. Because you know how those lustful feelings just can’t be controlled unless we of the fairer sex cover it up. It is, after all, our responsibility to control men’s minds and not tempt them with our dirty pillows, both in the front and the rear.

As a male friend of mine pointed out when I told him about the story, “You can put a woman in a burka and a guy’s still going to have lustful feelings.” I like that Partridge basically blames other women for her husband getting all fired up in the naughty way because they are tempting him with their athletic wear seven veils dance.

Here’s the thing–women should never be accountable for men’s morality. That crap fizzled to me with Eve. Samson chose to tell Delilah his coiffure secret. Taking away accountability for their thoughts and actions is like saying, “Nah, it’s fine, man. You can totally be pure id. Never mind social norms and impulse control. She was wearing compression leggings not on the treadmill. It was like she was throwing condoms and evil right in your face!”

Give. Me. A. Break.

Now, having said all that, I am trying to ween myself off of wearing yoga pants in public. It is so fantastically tempting to jump in my car and dash off to the grocery store in my ball cap, yoga pants, and “I’m Gonna to Man Up All Over Myself” t-shirt. But here is the main reason I am trying to reject the siren call:

I don’t need to wander around in public looking like crap.

I live in a small town and I run into people I know EVERYWHERE. Just this last weekend, I decided to go shopping for an hour or so. On a whim, I elected to change out of my bumming around the house clothes into a casual dress and sandals. Thank goodness I did, because I ran into the president of our college.

Tim Gunn talks about how casual we have become as a society. He’s exactly right. I’m not saying we have to trot out the lipstick and fur for every occasion, but there is something to be said for looking neat and put together. One of the signs of depression is a lack of attention to personal appearance. Tim’s advice is to come up with an alternative to sweat pants. This can be jeans and a top or a comfy sundress or whatever you want that is comfortable but won’t make you die a little inside should you run into your boss or your ex-boyfriend. If nothing else, throw on some giant sunglasses (to hide the no make up eyes), non-athletic shoes (or put on your nice ones), and a scarf (to hide the stains on your shirt).

As for Ms. Partridge, I hope those lustful thoughts stay far away from her happy little home. For me, I could give a damn about being the thought police for anyone else. But I vow to pull myself together before venturing out of the house for the love of style. It’s my civic duty.

Read, Write, and Be Merry,




I Get Around: HelloGiggles, Black Fox, and Cinefilles

Happy Wednesday, Pals and Gals!

I am pleased as punch (like the really yummy, slightly boozy kind of punch), to share a few little things I have published recently.

First up, I wrote an article for the lovely HelloGiggles about “How to be an introvert in an extrovert’s job.” This is my first piece for them and I am hopeful that more will follow (even though one of my friends is disappointed the writing gig doesn’t mean we get to meet the website’s co-founder Zooey Deschanel).

Next, there is “Twelve Variations on a Left Hook,” a flash fiction piece appearing in the newest edition of Black Fox Literary Magazine (the story starts on page 94). It is the piece I referenced writing in the first of my Ploughshares series on revenge writing–read part one of “The Revenge Society” here.

And finally, I am writing about the sexual revolution, or at least Showtime’s version of it, in recapping Masters of Sex for Cinefilles. Check there every Monday for my reviews.

Read, Write, and Be Merry,


PS. Here’s a little Beach Boys goodness for your midweek blues.

Fashion Up Friday: Liza Minnelli, Style Icon

A Style Icon is a precious thing. Entire eras are built around the looks defined by a select few. Like most girls, I adhere to the gold standard of Icons, ie. Audrey Hepburn. She is the end and the beginning. However, there are so many other women (and some men) who influence my personal style. One of those ladies is the ginormously talented Liza Minnelli.

Yes, her personal life has come to overshadow her talent, but it doesn’t dampen the fact that she is a fantastic singer and actress. And during the 70s her style was divine, primarily due to one key word: Halston. My love affair with Halston stems specifically from Liza in during this time period.

Minelli with Halston in 1974. The gold dress layered over the sheer black top is heaven.

The first time I remember seeing Liza was on a VHS recording my grandmother had of Frank, Liza, and Sammy. It was one of the only tapes she kept in her house, so I watched it on repeat, although only the part with Liza. Her outfit–a deeply cut black sequined chiffon pants suit–blew my little mind. It was overtly sexual with her display of cleavage, yet masculine. I loved it. Obsessed over it for years. (I might still dream of wearing it from time to time.)

Liza was so smart in the way she dressed, even with her stage costumes. She often danced or did comedy bits, so her wardrobe was functional while still being eye catching. Even as her weight has fluctuated and she has aged, her style has remained pretty true to the same basics.

My Style Lessons from Liza:

Keep a Simple Color Palette

Liza loves black, which is smart for a number of reasons. If she isn’t in black, then it is usually red or white. Sometimes she’ll try something else–she accepted her Oscar in a mustard-ish gold (see below)–but she sticks to jewel tones or black. Her dressing also tends to be monochromatic which does great things for creating a fluid silhouette.

Minelli with her Oscar for Cabaret. Note the relaxed cut with the vibrant color and minimal, but eye catching accessories.

But Never Boring

While her color choices might be basic, she makes up for it with daring cuts (deep V necks or super short skirts), sparkle, and interesting fabrics like jersey, chiffon, or satin. The result is that her outfits never look like they are trying too hard, nor do they look too casual. There is a versatility to this type dressing that make it seem as if she could just walk from dinner to the stage to a night club with no transitioning necessary.

The fit on her pants contrasts beautifully with the draped and low cut top. Again, tasteful accessories give the look polish.

Know Your Proportions

Liza looks in the 70s tended to go one of two ways: super short or diving neckline. Rarely (save her famous Cabaret look) did she do both. One of her most famous stage looks for Liza with a Z is a red sequin micro-mini that let her dance and show off her legs. The top, however, is high cut, balancing out the super short skirt.

Yes, this is basically a shirt, but it is a performance costume. She also sticks with her monochromatic look while mixing the sequins with sheer tights and patent heels to keep it from being boring.

Don’t Be Afraid to Be Just a Little Too Much (Especially if You Are)

More than her clothing, Liza’s signature look revolves around her jet black hair and enormous eyes. During the 70s she made them look even more exaggerated with fake lashes and gallons of eye liner. She never tried to pretend that her beauty wasn’t intentional.

Andy Warhol snapped this Polaroid sometime during the 70s. She’s wearing just a basic shirt, but her makeup is flawless. There is no trying to balance a bold eye with a subdued lip–this is all out glam, but it is perfectly done and fits her features.

Never Let the Clothes Wear You

One of my complaints about many modern celebrities is that the clothes often wear them. They get lost in their outfits, their personalities drowned out with the noise of their clothes. Liza was never shy, but she owned every look she wore. Even in the famed Cabaret look below, with so much going on (low cut, short, garters, bowler, heavy make up), she is still in charge of the look. Fashion should be fun, functional, and exciting, but it should never hide who you really are.

One of my favorite film looks of all times. How many women can pull off a bowler and not look silly? A Bob Fosse biography talks about how Gwen Verdon would melt crayons to use on the performers’ eyelashes.

Liza deserves props for her 2014 appearance at the Academy Awards. I love that she didn’t go for a gown or some frumpy thing that wasn’t her. The pantsuit is very her–good fabric, nice cut, great color–and the blue streak is just a bit too much (which on her is just enough).  Accessories are perfection. Although I’m not crazy about the shoes, I will cut her a break because the rest is exactly right for her style.

Until next time.

Read, Write, and Fashion Up,


Fashion Up Friday: This is Not a Fashion Blog


I was texting a friend the other day when she mentioned my recent lawn mowing post.

It was good. I liked it. But I always hope you’ll talk about your clothes or something like that one time you talked about how to walk in heels. That changed my life or at least my shoe life . . . Maybe just pictures of your shoes? That could be a series.

She was referring to a post I wrote for another blog (read it here), but it got me thinking. Flattering my fashion sense will get most people anywhere they want to go. I personally love looking at fashion blogs, but I have some issues with many of them.

1. The Goop Syndrome–Many fashion blogs live for labels that are not attainable to most women. I love some high end stuff, but I can’t really afford more than a few pieces every couple of years. Show me a mix of things or if you are going to show me reasonably priced alternatives to the $500 dress.

2. The Sex in the City Syndrome–Sometimes I look at the things bloggers post as “casual Saturday outfit” and have to ask myself, “Who the f- wears a pencil skirt and bra top for a casual on a Saturday?” I love personal style, but it needs to be realistic personal style. Give me some fantasy items for fun, but if the blog looks like you stole it from Carrie Bradshaw, I am going to pass.

3. The Vintage Syndrome–It kills me, I mean kills me, when a blogger shows tons of amazing clothes only to reveal that they were all pulled from vintage or thrift stores in some urban center like Portland or New York. That’s great if you live someplace that just happens to have the perfect leopard swing coat in stock. Most of us can’t bop down to Patricia Fields NYC treasure trove of eclectic fashion. My local stores like that are more the kitten sweatshirt/old baggy communion dress fare. Like with the label pieces, show me a few pieces, but let me know where I can find something comparable in the real world.

4. The Over Shot Syndrome–I like great pictures of outfits, make up, hairstyles, etc. But twenty pictures of the same outfit from a bazillion different angles? Your mermaid waves and vintage crushed velvet dress aren’t that special. There is a fine line between good visuals and vanity.

5. The Secret Syndrome–These are the blogs that post pictures of fantastic clothes with no information about where they came from. So maybe the skirt is from a few seasons ago, so what? Chances are, if I like the style, I might like the brand beyond a skirt I can no longer get.

6. The Go To Syndrome–Any blog that shows jeans, boots, and a scarf as key components for an outfit gets a big pass. I remember a fashion blogger talking about how she and two other fashion bloggers had been challenged to show their favorite travel outfit. Guess what it was? T-shirt, scarf, jeans, and boots. All three. We needed a post on this to tell us that you all wear the same thing on the plane? With pictures? Yes, we all wear this combination. We wear it on planes, shopping, and out on date night. It is like the new uniform of the modern woman. So we don’t need to see it again. No, not even with different heights of boots. We’ve all got it.

All that to say, this is not a fashion blog. But just to switch things up, in honor of my friend, I’m going to start including some posts about my style icons, personal style, and other random thoughts regarding my great fashion vice.

Are you a fan of fashion blogs? If so, who do you love and who do you loathe?

Read, Write, Be Merry, and Fashion Up,



Conversations with a Sad Kitten

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Two weeks ago, my children’s father picked them up to spend the month with him. Since I discovered this would be the arrangement back in April, I had been in some sort of fog of denial. By the end of May I started making plans for distractions–trips, home improvements, logging extra hours at work–anything to keep me busy once my chicks flew the nest.

One thing I had not anticipated was their four month old kitten, Izabeau, losing her freaking mind with them gone. I incorrectly assumed that she would be relieved by their absence as it meant a break from being constantly carted around, tossed, held, and stalked. On the contrary, she finds my gentle play and appropriate grip to be a nuisance. With no one else around except an aging deaf dog, I have been spouting a number of gems to that little ball of fur.

  1. “Hey Battle Cat, let’s take it down about five notches.”
  2. “Kittens don’t eat icing. Not even pirate icing.”
  3. (referring to our dog) “She’s an old lady. Don’t flaunt your youth in her face. No girl likes that.”
  4. Masters of Sex does not have kittens in it.”
  5. “Why are you yelling? I am literally one room away.”
  6. “My feet and your body can not actually exist in the same space at the same time. That’s physics.”
  7. “I like my rice with more rice and less kitten in it.”
  8. “Why do you always escalate it it to biting? Don’t you have a warning level?”
  9. “Kittens who want to live in this house are kittens who realize we don’t touch Mahnolo Blahniks.”
  10. “That’s right, Cheetara, fight the power. You’re still going to bed.”


A Woman’s Right to Mow

Dear Commenter:

Yesterday you passed by my home while I was out mowing my lawn. As it was over 95 degrees, I was sweating in my dorky overalls leftover from the Gap heyday of the late 90s and I am sure I wasn’t looking my most fetching. That wasn’t really my goal. My goal was, quite simply, to mow my lawn on my own.

Silly, I know. Who cares if I can do something any 10 year old kid can do? Well, I do. You see, until last April, I had never mowed a lawn. Never tried to start a mower, never heard the sound of a blade running into pine cones (it kind of reminds me of the wood chipper in Fargo), never had my whole face itch from being out in the flying grass and weeds. A friend taught me how to do it and even let me use his mower. I felt pretty proud of myself that first time, even though I had help.

This go around, I wanted to do more of it on my own. So I went out last night to see what I could do with no help. I was feeling proud of myself, to be honest, because I started it on my own and was navigating the ridiculously tall weeds all the May rain brought without killing the motor. With my son following behind me with his Mater bubble mower, I felt strong and useful.

Thankfully my sweet little boy was in the house by the time you came by. A few minutes before you and your friend tramped through my yard like it was your own, ignoring that it was clearly somebody’s home, a guy and his friends pulled up at the curb to tell me how hot I looked and make piss-poor puns about “hoeing.” Needless to say, I was not feeling as great when decided to use my yard as a short cut. But it was what you said that made me mad, much madder than I was at the dumb guys with their dumb innuendos.

You wanted to know why my husband wasn’t mowing the lawn for me. Now, I will give you a break since you are at the most fifteen, but there is something you need to know before you go a step further in life.

Waiting for or expecting a man to take care of you is the worst thing you can do to yourself.

This is not just coming from a place of divorce, which is why I am now the mower of my own lawn. It is coming from a place of reality. People die, people get sick, people never fall in love, people fall out of love, people realize they can be happy on their own. There are so many possibilities in life, assuming that you will marry a man who will take care of anything you don’t want to is nothing short of a failure of imagination.

I’m sad for you that at this stage in your life you have already settled into such limited perception. You probably didn’t even realize how your comment spat in the face of women who struggle every day in a male dominated world. You probably just thought it was funny to mock someone who was clearly working hard and physically showed it. That makes me sad for you too.

If you do get married one day or even end up in a long term relationship, to whomever, you should build your life on your own rules, not the defined rules of a society that itself doesn’t truly uphold them. If you want to mow the lawn, mow the lawn. It’s actually sort of therapeutic and rewarding. But don’t do or not do something because that is what your gender stereotype tells you.

Kill your own spiders, do your own laundry, change your own tires, and make your own dinner. Even if you don’t do those things well at first, you will eventually. Then if you do chose to be with somebody, you can work together to make your lives run the way you want.

I am glad my 8 year old daughter did not hear you say what you did because she was excited to see me start the lawn mower and wanted to know when she could start helping too. My son prefers vacuuming as it turns out, which is good news for me since I would rather mow.



Indominus Rex and the Velociraptors: A Conversation

jwSPOILER ALERT. Don’t read the following if you haven’t seen Jurassic World and want to be surprised.

So this weekend I took my kids to see Jurassic World. They adored it because, you know, dinosaurs. Indominus Rex, the genetically manufactured uber predator, is certainly a striking centerpiece to the film, particularly when it is revealed that the mega killing machine also happens to be fluent in Raptor. On the drive home from the movie, my 8-year-old daughter asked me what I thought the Indominus said to the Raptors. Here is a transcript of that imagined conversation with pithy commentary interjected by my daughter.

Me (As Indominus who talks a little like Hannah from Girls): Excuse me, but what exactly are you all doing here?

Me (As Blue, the lead Raptor, who talks a little like Kelly from The Office): This is kind of awkward, and you totally shouldn’t take it personally, but we were sent to kill you . . . Wait . . . you speak Raptor?

Indominus Hannah: Of course I speak Raptor.

Blue Kelly: How does that even happen?

Indominus Hannah: It happens because I am totally part Raptor. I’m other things too, but definitely Raptor. And I really feel deeply connected to the Raptor part of myself.

Blue Kelly: That is amazing.

Indominus Hannah: I know, right? So why are you trying to kill me? That is so random. And who are these weird dudes skulking around? (To the weird dudes skulking around) I see you. You are not fooling anyone.

Blue Kelly: We don’t really know. They just followed us here like total creepers. We don’t even like them. We only kind of like the dude in the vest. I mean, he’s pretty cool, plus he was in Guardians of the Galaxy.

Indominus Hannah: He was? That is so cool. I loved that movie.

Liliana: Mom, they are dinosaurs. They didn’t see Guardians of the Galaxy.

Me (as myself, talking a little like Michelle from Romi and Michelle’s High School Reunion): You don’t know that. It could totally have happened. Maybe that is how he imprinted on them.

Liliana: You are so silly. Finish the conversation.

Blue Kelly: Just kidding, we didn’t see that movie. Because we’re dinosaurs.

Liliana: Thank you.

Indominus Hannah: Too bad. Anyways, these guys except for Star Lord in a Vest kind of seem like tools. Want to ditch them and hang with me? I can be your alpha and stuff.

Blue Kelly: Do we get to eat people? Or just pigs?

Indominus Hannah: People are totally fine. And you can just kill things if you want, too. No eating necessary. I’m down for that.

Blue Kelly: Awesome. We’re in.

Indominus Hannah: Great! So let’s like, get them, and stuff. Oh, and on Wednesdays? Let’s wear pink.

Take Thine Beak From My Tape Deck Heart

Nostalgia is perhaps the greatest sign of aging–more often I find myself misty eyed for the trappings of a generation ago, be it a world before arguments were settled through Google or the security of knowing the red light I just squeaked under isn’t recording my transgressions. Not that I reject current technology (texting is a phone-fobe’s best friend); I am only wistful for some things that to me represent a part of life quickly vanishing. Two such things? Mix tapes and letters.

Tape Deck Heart

Where do I even begin to discuss my love of a mix tape? Perhaps the sheer magnitude of the task by its nature–tracking down songs, stopping and starting the tape deck, writing out the song list, decorating the cover and/or case–no playlist shared in digital form can replace that. A mixed tape represents a concerted effort to send someone specific messages through music. It is both cliche and fantastically romantic. Even a mixed CD at this point would be a suitable replacement, despite being infinitely easier to construct.

Mr. Postman Look and See

I had a French pen pal as a kid. Though I can’t remember her name now, I do remember that I found her through a service in the back of kids’ magazine. Once a month for about five years, I sat down and luxuriated in selecting from my wide array of stationary to craft my life changing correspondence. My letter writing did not stop there. I wrote letters all through college to a former high school teacher, my grandparents, and my friends when I was traveling. A few years ago I even exchanged letters with a former student. Receiving actual mail thrills me like few things. The idea that we are, one text and emoji at a time, killing the world of hand written notes and heart stopping love letters, saddens me like the beginning of Up.

I still collect stationary, though I’m not sure why. My correspondence is limited as it never has been before. Like the decline of the mix tape, I miss the thought that goes into writing an exceptional letter. Unlike text or email, it doesn’t have the immediacy nor the throw away feel. It is weighty and something that must be crafted. So few things can claim that now.

I’ve Gotta Crow: Writing Successes

In her book Schoolgirls, Peggy Orenstein says that women tend to underplay their accomplishments. I admit that I am usually pretty embarrassed to share when good things happen, even on my own blog. So it is with great discomfort that I share the following two things that happened in the past few days.

First, “The Saffron Rabbit” won the Solas Award for Food and Travel Writing last week, taking home gold in that category. I was especially honored because a number of the other winners (including my favorite editor Lavinia Spalding) were writers I greatly admire.

The story has been embraced in ways I could not imagine. The award aside, it has been published in Roots, The Best Women’s Travel Writing, and now out this week, Issue 5 of Overnight Buses. For those with iPads, it is available for free download. Please take a moment to check out this magazine. It is beautiful! Tom and his crew do a fantastic job.

You can download it here: Overnight Buses.

The other thing that happened actually occurred yesterday. My latest education article for the Midland Reporter Telegram came out in the paper Wednesday morning but online Tuesday night. I received an email from my editor who had been alerted that the Governor of Texas had retweeted the story.

  I’m not even going to pretend that isn’t a little bit cool. Whatever your political standpoint, having a local newspaper story picked up like that is exciting for a writer. It has also been retweeted by the American Association of Community Colleges and a number of others. Not too shabby for a Wednesday. The article is available here: “Community College can Play an Important Role in Student’s Education”

Read, Write, and Be Merry,



An Interview with Mark Falkin

CCcoverI was fortunate enough to receive an advance copy of  Contract City, available this month from Bancroft Press. Iced in with my kids for three days, this book was my salvation against the insanity of endless games of Candyland and prattle of a desperate “Magic Schoolbus” binge. Entering into the Contract City world, via protagonist Sara, was a welcome and thrilling respite. Today I am ecstatic to present an interview with this talented writer, Mark Falkin.

What was the inspiration behind Contract City? What compelled you to tell this particular story?

 I knew for a couple of years before starting to write this book—which was written mostly in 2009-2010—that I wanted to write about something that truly scared me and that the reason it scared me is because it does happen, has happened and could happen again. Massive social upheaval is real and scary. Riots are scary. I wanted to tell a story of a middle America family caught in such times in a not too distant, recognizable, and most frightening of all, possible, future. I saw a family, particularly a girl and her dad. The girl was a filmmaker. The dad was a disgruntled policeman. Their worlds were going to collide.

 I am usually critical of how people write teenage girls. One of the novel’s strengths is the narrative voice of Sara. How did you develop her? What were the struggles of writing her?

 Sara just came. From the get-go, I got her point-of-view and the essence of who she was. Initially, I thought the book would toggle back and forth between her father’s POV and hers. Writing his . . . felt stale and wrong. I moved to hers and that was it. The story would be told through her eyes, her lens.

 Contract City succeeds in being both literary and genre. How do you achieve that balance?

 Hey, thanks. I write what I would want to read. Long form fiction, novels that take many hours of my life to read–I don’t just want to finish it; I want to be gripped, by the heart and the head. The narrative must be compelling so that you bemoan having to put it down and rejoin the world. But for me, a story can only really be gripping if the prose is elevated to the point of intoxicating you. I think fiction works best when the reader is under a spell. If the prose doesn’t have that certain je ne sais quoi—call it tone, voice, lyricism, elegance—it won’t mesmerize. If it doesn’t do that, it’s kind of dead. If that balance was achieved in Contract City, it’s simply because I was mesmerized in the writing of it. Mesmerism comes from language. I like putting sentences together. 

 What is your writing process?

 Morning, coffee, intuitively, from the hip, every workday whether I feel like it or not. I try to get in 1000 words a day when I’m in that raw first-drafting phase. I don’t do much editing or rewriting on the first draft. I just throw down that wet clay on the potter’s wheel and see what I’ve got to work with. I don’t write at night and I don’t outline in the formal sense. As things develop from that nebulous cloud of beginnings, then I start to create a rough outline. But nothing ever stays locked in. It’s like you’re throwing the cement in front of you as you move forward down the road. I have a general idea where I’m going, but there are always moments where things change, sometimes dramatically.

 What do you read?

I’m a literary agent, so I read a lot of pitches and queries during the day. For my own fun, I tend to read so-called literary novels that have driving, kinetic stories, e.g., in the last year I was blown away by Love Me Back by Merritt Tierce, Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk by Ben Fountain, This Is How You Lose Her by Junot Diaz, The Goldfinch, A Visit From the Goon Squad by Jennifer Egan. Love Stewart O’Nan. Love Daniel Woodrell. Love Karen Russell. Love (most of) The Cormac. All of Gillian Flynn’s books. Brett Ellis, Chuck Palahniuk. And I’m a Constant Reader (Mr. King). I try to read unputdownable stories written artfully. I cannot stand self-important, dull “Literary” work that looks down its nose at you.

 What is the most valuable piece of writing advice you have received?

 Easy reading is damn hard writing. – Nathaniel Hawthorne

 You have self-published and worked with a publisher–how do those experiences differ?

 While it may not be fair, the realities of the marketplace dictate that self-published books aren’t worthy of attention. When a publisher acquires your book, you’ve got people behind you who believe in it on some level. The editorial direction you get working with a publisher is a collegially adversarial yet exciting process.

 Setting of Contract City in Tulsa is a particularly effective choice. Why did you feel that was the place to set your story?

I grew up there, so I know it on a visceral level. Tulsa is smack dab in the middle of the country, the Heartland, the real America we’ve heard so much about. Tulsa is a very religious town—more churches per capita than anywhere. Oklahoma is a politically and culturally conservative state of this union. The historical reality of the 1921 Tulsa Race Riots provided even more incentive to set it there. Tulsa is a test-market town. Why not try out full-blown privatization there? If it were attempted, wouldn’t that be exactly the place?

 What role does research play into your writing?

 I do just enough to achieve a semblance of verisimilitude and to move the story forward. I do not try to become an expert in a given subject matter. I find research, even a little, tends to propel a story into exciting directions. The context research provides is critical. It creates the aperture through which the story can be viewed. That’s been my experience so far anyway. I can see how research could be stultifying, though.

What is your biggest challenge as a working writer?

 Post-writing: in a world of screens and “content”, getting people to believe in the work enough to somehow compete with that. And then developing a readership.

A huge thank you to Mark for gifting me Contract City and taking the time to share such insightful, thought-provoking answers. Order Contract City today. Go ahead. Do it. I’ll wait . . .

Did you do it?

Excellent decision.