The Secret Life of Jenny Williamson

Back from France last month and I hit the ground running. The short version is that after getting home, I did my taxes (bummer) and just found out I have a $146 rebate coming my way (woot!). I got cast as an extra in The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, a new movie inspired by the short story of the same name and starring Ben Stiller. I’m basically standing on the sidewalk in the scene where Walter Mitty hallucinates doing skateboard tricks in the street and standing on a bus with a rubber baby growing out of his chest. (Looking forward to seeing this movie.) I didn't actually see Ben Stiller...but the stunt guys all looked like him. I was seeing faux Ben Stillers everywhere I looked.

Then the next day, got cast in a L’Oreal print ad for Healthy Look, their semi-permanent hair color. Basically, they colored my hair and took before and after pics which will be up on their website at some point. My hair is slightly darker and redder now. (Woot!)

I also landed a voiceover gig for an online job site for graphic designers…I spent all morning on Friday recording that at home. I love that I can record things in my “home studio.” Well…I call it a home studio. You might call it a mic that plugs into a laptop. But “home studio” sounds a lot better.  Yup, I’m a copywriter.

Meanwhile, I’ve finished up the first half of the first draft of my latest novel and am preparing to Nano the second half. Preparing…any day now…eventually I’ll make that leap to writing 2,500 words a day again. I’ve been telling myself that all week but have basically just been prodding at it with a stick all week. Oh well. Soon, I swear.

And! New pics, clips, a new IMDB page…things are coming together.

So…more blog posts up in the coming week or two. As the weather warms up and life gets more interesting. 

Confessions of an International Traveler

I saw this post over at Thought Catalog and thought I'd write one of my own. My stories aren't quite as colorful as hers...but they're actually not that far off.

1. I joined a gym in the Hague and took spin classes in Dutch. (I don’t speak Dutch.)
2. I kayaked down canals in Utrecht.
3. I spoke the three words of Greek I knew to everyone I met in Crete. People gave me things. A man at the entrance to Phaistos gave me an orange. A waitress gave me a free shot of ouzo. Everyone asked me who I was and where I was from.
4. I rode a horse at nine in the morning in Ecuador up a volcano after being up all night on a bus the night before. Our horses were followed by a very persistent dog who kept trying to herd my horse off a cliff. There was also a zipline across a raging river and a very tall tree house involved.
5. I rode a camel on a beach in Mombasa.
6. I persuaded a taxi driver in Scotland to give me a three-hour taxi ride for almost free.
7. I danced underwater with sea lions in the Galapagos Islands.
8. I got a lap dance at a strip club in Prague.
9. I tried to flag down an out-of-service bus in London and almost got flattened.
10. I walked up the Appian Way in a violent rainstorm. The water on the road was up to my knees and every time a car drove by it splashed me and I got soaked.
11. I persuaded a guy with a seafood truck in Oban, Scotland to make me and a girl I was with a stack of lobsters for almost free. We bought cheap wine, got fall-down drunk with the Scotsman and his friends, and climbed around in strangers’ boats on the pier.
12. I went scuba diving on the Great Barrier Reef.
13. I decided it would be a great idea to drink an entire bottle of champagne in the airport on my last day in Venice. I was rowdy-drunk on the plane and accidentally left my passport at the security line.
14. I hitchhiked in the Netherlands.
15. I ate oysters fresh from the sea in Cancale, in Normandy.
16. I spent this past Easter picnicking with a bottle of cider next to the Eiffel Tower.
17. I saw tadpoles in the fountains at the Taj Mahal.
18. I ate dinner on a rooftop with a view of the Taj Mahal and the setting sun.
19. I was chased by a mob of boys throwing rocks at me at a temple outside Jaipur.
20. I was surrounded by a mob of schoolchildren at the Jantar Mahar in Jaipur. They all wanted to take my picture. Their teacher came up and I thought he would shoo them away with some kind of apology; instead, he asked for my picture too!

In France!

If all goes well, I'm in Paris--right about when this post goes up. It's such a cliche to love Paris. But I do. I love the storied, storybook architecture, the cobbled windy streets, the beautiful stores and the stunning food and the music of the language all around me. One of the happiest memories I have of the past few years is a simple one: sitting on a low stone wall overlooking the Seine, with the sun shining, eating a lemon crepe. It doesn't take a lot to make me happy.

It's easy to be romantic in Paris, because romance isn't something you construct--it's all around you, a hazy fog you move in that casts everything you do in an extraordinary light. Yes, I am totally romanticizing the place. If I lived there it would become ordinary, full of the inconveniences and unpleasantnesses you find when you really get to know a place. I don't care. I will continue to put Paris on a pedestal as long as I can.

I live in another city it's easy to romanticize. I don't really romanticize New York. I live in a less-than-trendy neighborhood, and I'm in the city every day. I see the rats and the grime and the problems. I also see the opportunity and excitement. Like a lot of people, I came to New York to make something happen in my life. That's what the city's for--and as an ambitious person, I'm at home here. But I'd like to think that New York and I have a more functional, everyday relationship: I see New York for what it is, the good and the bad.

So New York is like my husband. I wouldn't want to be with anyone else. At least not for the foreseeable future. But Paris is the exciting, gorgeous, romantic fling I sometimes need to make living in New York even more spectacular. You always appreciate things most from a far-away vantage point. And I know that after being away for a while, I'll be even more happy that I live here.

On Rhinos and Revision

Seriously, guys, I need my own Rhino.

My dear friend at So Many Words recently blogged about Rhinos of Revision--that part of you that charges into the first draft of your novel, sniffs out what should stay, and stomps on what should go--stomps it FLAT. The Rhino of Revision doesn't give a sh--t. The Rhino of Revision has no problem killing your darlings. The Rhino of Revision eats darlings for BREAKFAST.

I am missing my Rhino. Oh, it comes out when I review other people's novels. I'm a confident editor when it's someone else's work. I know exactly what I think should change, exactly what I think should stay, and how I think the writer can whip the manuscript into shape. But I seriously, for the life of me, can't do it for myself. It's like a sickness. I'm on Novel 4 right now--having failed to get three into fighting shape after writing sucky first drafts. I just haven't figured out how to coax my inner Rhino out of its cave.

So far I'm lucky to have two very tolerant and long-suffering editors who are willing to lend me their own very competent Rhinos. But I need to be able to do this for myself. And it's not easy. I think it will have to involve spending more time with each chapter and just working out that muscle that seems to wither in the face of an overwhelming task. Of course, the one difference between my own manuscript and someone else's is that I don't have to actually put all the changes I suggest to work when I'm editing someone else's stuff. This makes me braver, I think.

So my goal for this week is to sit down and have a serious look at the chapters I'm working on. Maybe start an editing diary to keep track of what I think needs to happen, just in one small, manageable section that I'm working on right now. The secret is to keep this manageable. Because my Rhino is a skittish thing. It's got a five-inch-thick hide. But it's also endangered. Hm...may be carrying this metaphor too far.

Anyway. Rhinos. Must get one. Revisions. Must do them.

Spring is Here

So many, many things I want to do. And with the sunny weather, I'm feeling inspired to get it done! I've been so busy lately and so excited about life, love, and living in the city. Here are a few things I've been working on in the past three months--some career-related, some not.

Getting my acting sh---t together. Goodbye crappy headshots! Goodbye going to print-modeling go-sees with acting photos! And at long last, goodbye crappy acting website. This winter and spring, I've embarked on a spring-cleaning of my acting marketing collateral. I've got fabulous new pictures coming and an amazing web design company lined up to build me a new website. I've also done a couple of fun film and TV projects that hopefully will give me some great reel material. It's taken a long time for all of this to come together, but I have a feeling great things will happen when it does.

Getting my writing sh---t together. I've been working hard on my novel--with the goal of having it agent ready by end of next year. I hit a snag and right now I'm having a very select circle of trusted readers look it over and let me know what they think--one of my goals this year is not to sit on my drafts when I get stuck, the way I've done in the past. I get too stuck in the echo chamber of my own mind.

Getting my freelancing sh---t together. Actually, this has probably been the most together part of my life for the past few years. My freelancing business has sustained me throughout years of living independently in Philadelphia and New York--and I'm eternally grateful. But I wanted to take it a step further. I've resurrected my freelance writing blog in the past few months, and I know it's also time to resurrect the article section on my freelance writing website and get better about social media and non-social-media marketing. I've been tackling these projects a little at a time, once a week.

Writing a song, knitting a blanket, learning to speak, learning to dance, writing a poetry chapbook. These are my random creative projects--things I love to do when I just need to take a break from all the career-related stuff above and have some fun.

I feel overwhelmed sometimes. But when the sun is shining and the weather is warm, it's just easy to feel light and optimistic--like everything can't help but work out perfectly. I know it won't. Life still adamantly refuses to be perfect--it's taken me a long time to accept that. But I'm doing a lot of things this year I should have done a long time ago--and I'm excited about it.

Being Cindy Williams

So last week was insane and crazy and wonderful and exhausting...pretty much all at once, all the time. I was busy a lot. One of the things I was busy with was filming an episode of Celebrity Ghost Stories. I got to re-enact a ghost story told by Cindy Williams, who played Shirley in Laverne and Shirley. Apparently she looks a lot like me.

And i got to be terrified. All the time.

The ghost story she told was really scary! It starts when Cindy starts hearing strange noises in her house. Doors slam when she's alone. She sees something big and black run under her daughter's bed--something definitely too big to be a cockroach. Things escalate until I--ahem, Cindy--has to call in a friend who's a medium to light some burning sage, wave a severed eagle's wing, and chant those chants that ghosts don't like to hear. I'd tell you what happens next, but I don't want to give away the ending.

I am such a worrier. I always think the perfect take was the one that would have happened just after the last one I did. I noticed this in myself two weeks ago, when I was filming Sarah and Penny, the student film about the girl with OCD. I definitely also do it now. I bet lots of professional actors feel this way too. But there's no way to know until I see the footage--which I'm looking forward to. Also looking forward to having current material for my reel.

In other words, I also did the Sam Christensen Studios workshop last week. This was a four-day endeavor that took up a lot of time and had massive amounts of homework--hence, no blogging last week. But I got some great insight into my "type" for acting--and I'm thrilled to get out there and put myself in front of more agents and auditioners. I'm starting to feel very optimistic about this year!

Where to Go For Inspiration

I don't believe in writers' block. I believe in sitting down and writing whether you're "inspired" or not. I'm kind of a no-nonsense, tough-love sort of writer--when it comes to dealing with my inner child. But I also know it's more fun to write when you're inspired. Still, inspiration doesn't come when it's called--it comes when it's good and ready. Or does it?

No, you can't control inspiration, But it helps to know yourself and know how to make the environment friendly to it. Here are a few places I know to return to when I"m struggling for it.

To my friends. There is nothing like checking out what your friends are doing to get back the urge to create yourself. I"m lucky to have quite a few extremely talented friends who always inspire me. And by "inspire me," I mean "make me insanely jealous with the awesome stuff they're doing." Jealousy isn't a bad thing, though. Jealousy fuels me.

To books and art I love. Reading is my refuge. When I was a kid, I would sit in my room for hours and read. I would read on the playground. I would read in the classroom. I had this clever habit of propping a textbook up on my desk and hiding a small paperback in it so it looked like my face was buried in the textbook. Of course, any teacher who moved around the room rather than hanging out at the front would have my number. But I still thought it was a brilliant move.

To the outdoors. I grew up in Vermont, and being outside always makes me feel better. Even if I'm outside in New York, which I'm not sure actually counts as "outside." I like being surrounded by trees and not hearing any sounds of human habitation, but if there's none of that particular environment around, I can live with warm sun on my back and a nice patch of grass.

To coffee shops. The world just looks different in a coffee shop, and I've done some of my best and most productive writing in them. I love coffee shops that attract freelancers and writers themselves. I love cafes full of people tapping away on laptops. I feel part of something bigger--part of a counter-cultural movement away from the cubicle and toward creative, entrepreneurial, and fulfilled lives. I feel like we're all in it together, even if we're all working on our own things.

To the gym. I get bored when I jog. And when I get bored, I daydream. I've found the treadmill is a great place to think about my book and untangle troublesome plot points.

Where do you go for inspiration?

I Want to Be a Cove Guardian

So my boyfriend watched The Cove a while back--the documentary about Japanese dolphin hunters who slaughter pods of dolphins in an isolated cove near the town of Taiji--and was extremely moved. He tried to get me to watch it. I didn't want to. In fact, I kind of categorically refused.

Some people claim that Japan's whaling tradition is an ancient and honorable one, and by condemning it, the West is asserting its own specific view of right and wrong over other countries. I understand that opinion--and I certainly don't think everything Western countries believe is right or that all countries should act like the US or Western Europe. But I do think that there are certain standards all countries should adhere to as we become more enlightened and responsible as a species, things that make the world as a whole a better place--such as basic standards of human rights and environmental responsibility. For me, these kinds of practices fall under that. And I can understand wanting to preserve the ancient whaling practices of the Inuit people in Alaska, for instance; these are people who still hunt whales with kayaks and hand-thrown spears. The whales, in other words, still have a chance. Japan practices full-on commercial whaling, which happens on a much larger scale--and the whales don't have much of a chance at all.

Anyway, back to The Cove. The reason I didn't want to see it wasn't that I'm in favor of Japan's whaling and dolphin-hunting tradition. The reason is that it will give me serious nightmares. I get that way about animal cruelty--I grew up riding horses and I still have trouble watching movies where horses get hurt, even though I know it's not real. It bothers me because I know stuff like that happened in the past and happens still every day. It takes a psychic toll on me to see it. I watched a documentary on ocean life a few months ago and cried for hours over a really graphic scene depicting shark finning. Seriously, I should not be watching The Cove.

But I was reading about the Cove Guardians--a small group of people committed to stopping the dolphin hunting in Taiji by filming the slaughter and generating international pressure against it. They take volunteers. And I was thinking today about my life and all the things I've been devoted to this whole time--my creative art, my acting, my writing. All important things. But sometimes I feel like I live my life too much for myself and not enough for the world. Living for myself means I spend a lot of time thinking about me--how I come off, how I can be more successful, how I can improve this or that thing about myself. But when you're devoted to a cause like this, it isn't about you. It's about the cause and the progress you've made, and helped others to make.

I like the idea of focusing on something outside myself and my life--of having an area of my life that is not about me. In a sense, this takes a certain kind of pressure off. A lot of people get that from having kids. I think I'd rather get it from some sort of devotion to a cause I believe in. I believe in a lot of things, very passionately--but I don't volunteer. I'm not active. I've been to exactly one Occupy Wall Street protest since I moved back to town, despite following the movement avidly. This should change. It will be difficult to find the time--but worth it.

Back From a Film Shoot

I've been shooting a film for the past week or so. It's a low-budget indie film, a story about a neat-freak, socially-awkward girl with OCD who lives with a wild party-girl roommate. Sara, my character--the OCD one--finds that she has feelings for her roommate even though they drive each other crazy--and part of her journey is coming to terms with the fact that she has feelings for another woman.

This role is something like playing Laura in The Glass Menagerie, which I did a couple of years ago in Philadelphia--it's a character who doesn't speak much, but feels a great deal and is extremely sensitive--the kind of character who has monologues with her eyes. I love this sort of part. I love the sensitivity, the significance of every indrawn breath. I love getting lost in emotions and forgetting the camera is there.

Yesterday we started filming at 10 in the morning and didn't stop til 7 AM this morning--I'm pretty sure that goes against union rules, but this job isn't union. I had the rest of Saturday off--I spent most of it napping, with a few pauses to make spring rolls and read a bit. By the time this post goes up, I'll have wrapped it on Sunday, unless something goes wrong. Which I hope nothing does. If it's OK with the director, I'll put up either clips or the whole movie once I get my copy.

Why Creativity is Like Sex

They are so eerily similar. Here's why.

Both require foreplay. Seriously, have you ever created great art without some inspiration coming first? Yeah, you can sit down and go through the motions--with practice, you can even churn out something nice from that. But you also have to be inspired. Artistic foreplay could consist of reading a book that inspires you, checking out an amazing photo gallery, or surfing on over to Concept Art and looking at the gorgeous images. It's different for everyone. But you have to put your mind in the right place.

Where Did I Leave the Joy Again?

It's easy to lose sight of the joy that's supposed to come hand-in-hand with getting to practice your art.

When you're a kid, you live in that joy. You follow your own creative interests, down any road--regardless of whether that road is marketable or effective or whatever. You don't care. You're doing it for you, and it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. You don't even think of the opinions of others.

As you get older, however, you have to think of the opinions of others. Those people's opinions make a difference in whether you get cast, your book gets published, you get hired...you have to make your art to please other people, whether you like it or not. Keeping the creative joy going can be hard under these conditions. Here are a few thoughts on how to keep it going.

Ignore everyone else in the room. Your performance or novel is not about them--it's about you. For instance, I went to an audition a few weeks ago that was improv-based. These types of auditions have historically made me really nervous. This time, after a conversation with a mentor about how I needed to let go and have more fun, I went in with that attitude--that I was going to have a blast and do something I could genuinely smile about later--whether I got cast or not was out of my control. I really committed to my choices, had a blast in the auditions--and booked the part! I didn't let the people watching make me nervous about acting like an idiot, which is a pitfall of auditions like this.

This can work for writing, too--write like there are no critics. Write like there's no audience. Write for you--write what makes your blood sing. Let other people's opinions work themselves out later.

Forget your ambitions. It's so easy to get discouraged when you're not getting the result you want in your creative career. When you've gotten a lot of rejections lately, when your book is just refusing to follow your neatly-planned plot, when you've been at it for ten years and still aren't making a living. WHen we're kids, we're playing--but when we're adults, the stakes are higher, and there are clear winners or losers. Try to get back into that play mindset--and reject the idea that there's any way to "fail."

Be gentle with yourself. If you've never read The Artist's Way, you should get yourself a copy. One of its suggestions is to take yourself on an "Artists' Date" fairly regularly--to a place that inspires your creativity. Whether that's a museum, a musical, a park, a store...whatever. Do things that inspire you. And take care of yourself. The industry will be hard on you--so that means you can't afford to be hard on yourself. Don't blame yourself for things that are beyond your control. Don't look down on your own work. Be realistic--and if something needs improvement, work to improve it. But always be sure to mentally recognize your own successes as well.

Being creatively successful is so much a mind game. You need to be emotionally strong and able to withstand the difficulties of an unforgiving industry--and a lot of the time that means going easy on yourself when no one else will, even if you're a perfectionist and your instinct is the opposite.

Five Free Tools and Sites for Writers I Can't Live Without

The Internet provides endless opportunities for writers to procrastinate--but also to get stuff done. Here are a few tools and sites online that I've found invaluable--and that may just help you, too!

Freedom. This nifty little program will keep you from going online for an amount of time you specify--up to three hours, or more, I forget. But it's a lot of time. For those days when you'd rather be looking at cute videos of cats on YouTube than becoming a published author, Freedom will cut you off from your go-to procrastination sites--and keep you working on your novel.

Reading Books You Wish You'd Written: Double-Edged Sword?

Last week, in the midst of my massively crazy photo shoot during which I had literally NO time for anything else, I managed to read the entirety of Laini Taylor's Daughter of Smoke and Bone. If you haven't read this book--stop what you're doing. Run, don't walk, to your local bookstore and buy it. Then read it. Right now. I'll wait.

OK, now that you've read it, you know what I mean. BRILLIANT, right? The imagery, like a Dark-Crystal-inspired macabre-beautiful dream from the depths of your subconscious, where everything has a twisted and personal meaning. The sheer creativity of this world and this concept. I just wanted to weep. And I had one single, overriding thought after finishing it, comprised of equal parts envy and awe: I wish I had written this.

My Best Self

My best self always wears a red dress.
Red for the pinprick,red for remembrance.
My best self loves blood on her hands,
sees it as "material."
See how she writes it on the cave walls.

My best self makes every failure into art.
Her poetry makes homeless men go blind.
I've seen her single-handedly levitate whole audiences.
Even her pain is so pretty.

The Artist's Catch-22

I went down to Pennsylvania today to do a photo shoot that involved new actors’ headshots and commercial modeling portfolio pics. The thing about this project is that if you want to get good acting headshots or portfolio pictures, it’s not enough to smile pretty and look nice. Everyone else will be doing that, too. There needs to be an emotion in the picture—one that grabs the person looking by the face and makes them want to see more.

There is only one way to do this. You bring up something from your life. You let it live in your face for a while. Let it inhabit your body. Make yourself a glove for the hand of these feelings. Sometimes it’s good feelings—I think of good times with friends and a giggle rises up like champagne bubbles. I think of a boy who broke my heart, of a song that reminds me of him, and show the camera something I usually hide. It’s about being open. It’s about being vulnerable. Acting is like this too—every audition, every performance. This is what the art asks of you.

Is Writers' Block a Myth?

It’s supposed to be the plague of writers everywhere. Writers’ block—the deadly disease that makes you stare at a blank page for hours, without the slightest clue what to write. I’ve heard of this Writers’ Block. I’ve even known people who claim to have had it. I never get it myself.

Maybe this is because I’m a working writer. As a copywriter, I work under deadlines. I have to get a brochure or an article in to my employer within a certain amount of time, and if I don’t, I don’t get paid. That incentive will kill any budding tendency toward Writers’ Block, in my opinion.

Maybe it’s not fair to say this—I’m sure there are plenty of people for whom Writers’ Block is a debilitating condition. But in my opinion, Writers’ Block is a luxury for amateurs. When your next paycheck is riding on you coming up with something, you come up with something.

Hanging Out at the Intersection of Poetry and Sensuality

I’m a member of this group called the Poetry Brothel. They have groups and events in dozens of cities and countries, and I have to tell you, if you ever get a chance to go to one, do it—it will blow your mind.

At the poetry brothel, patrons get the chance to buy poker chips which they can give to the “whores”—all really amazing and talented poets, both men and women—for a private poetry reading. There are public readings throughout the night as well, burlesque performances, a musical act, tarot, and other fun stuff—but the real attraction is this intimate and interactive new way to experience poetry.

Defining My Relationship With New York

Sometimes you come across a concept phrased a certain way and it just hits you in the chest with its truth and makes you understand a huge facet of your life more deeply. Trolling around Happy Opu the other day, I had an experience like this—when I read a description of New York as a place that has plenty of potential to hurt you—but also a place that “begs you and eggs you on to be exactly who you really are.”

Reading that sentence, I totally understood, in a way I hadn’t quite been able to before, exactly why I’m here—and why I need to be.

I’ve lived in a lot of different places. I grew up in a rural area in Vermont, and I love the country. I love hiking and camping and living in isolated spots in the woods where I can’t see anyone else’s house from mine. I love falling asleep to crickets chirping and swimming in ponds and rivers and going barefoot all summer. If I had kids, I would want to raise them in a place like Vermont. I might want to settle down there myself one day. But not yet.

The Ethics of Commercials

I just landed an agent for commercials. Which is really, really exciting. I'm dedicated to the craft, and there's nothing I love more than Shakespeare and language and real, meaningful theatre that moves people and tries to shake up the world. But I love the idea of doing commercials too. Not because they would satisfy my creative urges, but because they're a good way for actors to make money and advance their careers. There are so few of those out there, folks. You have to give us what little there is.

Want to Write a Novel? Make it Your Job.

This weekend, I've had several conversations with people who want to write novels. I meet a lot of people like this. Would-be writers who insist they have a novel in them, but who just sit down and nothing comes out. Or they're writing about a page a month because they want everything to be perfect. Or they're just not...sitting down, or writing, at all. I've written three novels and am working on a fourth. All are in various stages of disrepair and chaos--I haven't gotten orderly first drafts out of my process so far. But I do have finished first drafts. I can't say it's a perfect process, but it's better than doing nothing.

So if you've been working on your novel on and off for decades already, or you just haven't sat down and started, here are a few tips for getting a finished first draft.

"Write What You Know": Bad Advice?

I took a lot of creative writing classes in college. And over and over again, in poetry, fiction, and creative nonfic classes, I received the same advice from professors: write what you know. I heard this over and over. If I wrote about something beyond my experience, I was sometimes told I was overreaching—and I heard friends and classmates being told the same thing. Often, I was told to dial it back—to reach within my own experience for ideas.

I think this can be great advice—but also very limiting advice. Too limiting if you take it literally. And it depends on the type of writing you’re doing. For instance, I write both poetry and novels. My novels are all over the place—I write fantasy, romance, historical(ish) fiction, and the occasional YA. None of my storylines are ever based on my own life.

Summer In the City--And You're Long Gone from This City

Whatever it is in New York at the moment, it is far from summer. But this line from Regina Spektor’s song “Summer in the City” totally captures my mood lately. I’ve lived in small towns and big cities alike—and sometimes, living in a big city is lonelier.

My boyfriend lives in Europe. And while I have a lot of great friends in New York, I also have a lot of close friends and family live at least several states away, at most an ocean away. Sometimes I’m too busy to think about it—too busy to think, period. But other times I feel the absence of people I love. I wish I could drop in on my parents for some wine and a home-cooked meal. I wish I could meet my sister for an all-afternoon-long lunch-turned-shopping spree. I wish I could drink margaritas with my best friends from college on the roof of a hotel, several times a month. I wish I could come home to my boyfriend.

YA Heroines and the Discovery of Sexuality

I love reading YA. And I love YA heroines. I’ve been seeing them much more in the past few years than I have when I was younger, which is really heartening—it means hopefully the publishing industry is becoming more comfortable with publishing YA novels with female protagonists.

I’ve understood that in the past, publishers avoided female protagonists for YA because while girls will read about girls and boys, boys only want to read about boys—so sales are better for male protagonists. Which I think is a huge shame—because I remember as a child (I grew up in the 80’s) absolutely hungering for strong female characters I could relate to. My favorite character in Lord of the Rings was Eowyn—a minor character to many readers, but to me, she was crucial.

Why "Sexy" Is a Dirty Word for Me

I’m not, by any stretch of the imagination, a model as we usually think of models. I’m not eight feet tall. I don’t walk the runway. I will never be in Victoria’s Secret.

But as part of expanding my acting business, I’m looking into commercial modeling. Commercial models are people in print ads. A commercial model can be a beautiful woman, or an average-looking and approachable woman, or a seventy-five-year-old man. You don’t have to conform to the standards of fashion-model beauty. What you do have to do is portray a certain “type”—the stressed-out mom, the successful businessman, the ambitious new intern. It’s an acting exercise that falls between acting and modeling.

New Year, New Start

I like New Years Resolutions.

I realize I’m probably in the minority here. For a lot of people, the New Years resolution is just another thing to commit to, then forget about three weeks after it’s made. I get that. I used to be like that. I still am, for some goals. I’ve changed in the past few years, though.

Really, it started with turning 30. I don’t know what caused it—I wish I have an interesting, relevatory story to tell, but I don’t. I just looked at my life and thought to myself, I can do better. And I started to be consistent about certain things. To set aside a certain amount of time per day. And I began to see real progress. Sometimes it can take a long time to see progress, but once you start to see it, you’re hooked.