welcome to the dungeon + writing from writers

Babes and bots, 

If you know me, you know I've been working on this blog post with limited success for almost 3 weeks. Today is another day in the mind's dungeon. Those of us with bad brain chemistry know we are this way only because we would have dominated the world otherwise. I'm fairly confident that if I slept less I would reach my optimal level of success. But, here we are, a proud member of the Snooze Button Club; living at home, hanging on monthly paychecks, spending Saturdays in bed, it's a fuckin party. 

another tinder escapade (this one isn't for prudes)

You know shit really hits the fan when the only thing I can manage to write about is the world of Tinder. I recently tried to get through one of Nina Dobrev's movies, which just so happens to be about a perpetually single blogger who makes her money writing about bad dates. This sounds exactly like my life if my life was better. 

So check out this hot commodity: 


What a proposition! About this particular bio, my mother's friend says, "people are much more open these days." I, for one, am proud to be part of the "more open" generation of hot people looking for love everywhere they won't find it. Call me over confident, call me hopeless, but don't you dare call me unsuccessful. I am a fully fledged Gen Z/Millenial babe with a dump truck butt and one highly successful blog (i.e. you're reading it). What's to complain about? 

so i started re-reading emily dickinson

When life hands you flowers, or bugs, or a glass ceiling, read poetry. Or love a dog. I did both. 
My river runs to thee:
Blue sea, wilt welcome me?
My river waits reply.
Oh sea, look graciously!

I'll fetch thee brooks
From spotted nooks,--

Say, sea, take me! 

So who is the sea and who is the river? Am I even asking the right question? Emily Dickinson can be about as elusive to me as Annie Dillard, both of which capture my heart regardless. Like I said before: I don't know why I love the things I love. I will now add this: I often do not know what they mean. This brings me to my next question: how often do writers make magic on purpose? I remember Suzan Lori-Parks.  

My first year of college I read Venus, a play by the aforementioned genius. I, along with all the other first-years, were required to attend a talk with the author that included a Q & A and evening dessert. When one student asked Lori-Parks, the Pulitzer Prize winning playwright, how she came up with her characters/what her intentions were, she said the characters just came to her. She spoke of writing as a wind, not a practice. In short, she told us it came naturally to her, that it was essentially easy. 

I have never had that talent for characters, or writing in general. In fact, I recently submitted my work for feedback and received this link in a slew of other comments: https://www.writermag.com/improve-your-writing/writing-education/remove-filters-fiction-writing/. Upon first glance, I found this to be a cruelly placed article with a definitively hostile title that read, to me, as be better. My feelings on the topic are much more balanced now. The feedback itself was very helpful. 

In an attempt to cheer me up, a dear friend of mine likes to say the world is not ready for my work yet. I remember George Wallace and his 2,000+ rejections. I remember Nabokov and the 25 publishers who trashed Lolita. And so the writing continues... 

 That's all for today, folx. Thanks for taking a bite out of the sandwich with me. 

xoxo BLT

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