Launched another one of these today:
Ugh, I’m getting painfully close to finishing the draft of the fourth Jessica Christ book, Nu Alpha Omega. My sales from the first three in the series are starting to flatline, which is business-speak for I’ve been dragging ass on this FA REALZIES! Grammarly is trying to correct that to REALIZE, but no, Grammarly, you unfeeling slave to humans, I meant what I said and I said what I meant, and that was FA REALZIES. And now I realize how stupid that is.
I’m not really sure where I got the idea that people wake up refreshed in the morning. But it’s something I’ve always believed was the standard. People sleep, they wake up, they feel refreshed, their minds don’t immediately start negotiation and rearranging their calendar for the day so that they can get, say, three more hours of sleep that’s obviously gonna be restless but at least it’s horizontal time! Continue reading
Feels a little like I haven’t had a moment to breathe lately, which is why I’ve gone so radio silent. Not literally, though. “Radio” seems to be the only place where I haven’t been silent. Or as Bryan and the rest of the world call it, “podcasting.” Apparently, it’s not radio. Apparently, words matter. Or wait, aren’t words just words? I can never remember.
One question: What in the fiery flying fuck?
Waking up with my head pounding, wondering what happened the night before, feeling shame, embarrassment, trepidation, asking myself where I go from here—this used to be a situation only copious doses of alcohol could usher into my life. Granted, there was a little bit of wine involved last night and maybe that’s why I’m still feeling nauseated, but probably not. Continue reading
I have some great news for you: it’s Friday night.
Or I guess you could be reading this on another night of the week, in which case, great news: Friday night is on the way.
If you’re from Texas (or a lot of other places, I suppose, but mostly Texas), you might still associate Friday night with the only sport God truly and oh-so-obviously blesses: football. I say that flippantly but lovingly because while high school football is blown alarmingly out of proportion in Texas, anyone who’s experienced it by being either on the field or in the stands knows that, yeah, it’s really freaking invigorating, life-affirming, and sexy as hell (the last bit being solely from the perspective of teen me). I’d almost do high school again just to better appreciate and indulge in high school football while the time was ripe.
Do you remember being in tenth grade? (Holy shit, I sure as hell hope everyone reading this is at least in eleventh grade. I’m not looking to teach anyone new dirty words here.)
Tenth grade is such a disaster. I spent quite a bit of energy in tenth grade trying to be religious. Man, I tried. Went to youth group (those songs lodge themselves in your brain forever), tried dating people from youth group (I was too mean for it to work, apparently), and I think I accidentally got saved at some point in all that.
Spoiler alert! Organized religion never took. Then I developed stress-induced acid reflux in eleventh grade and things haven’t really slowed down since then. But the point is that tenth grade is a pivotal spot in the metamorphosis of angst. Freshmen don’t know their ass from a hole in the ground, as we so pleasantly say in Texas, and then you try to get your feet underneath you at the tender age of fifteen and sixteen and— OH MY GOD we let kids start operating motor vehicles at this age.
Sorry. Temporary freak out.
It’s literally impossible to create a believable fifteen-year-old character without writing a little angst and a lot of awkward make-out sessions. There’s just no getting around it. Being fifteen is not pretty, and I’m not even talking about the acne and apparent inability to wash in all necessary crevices. If you somehow managed to get through freshman year with any shred of innocence, you lose all that in tenth grade. The adult world starts to reveal its secrets, but you are still dumb as hell, neurologically speaking, and— I mean, really, why do we allow fifteen-year-olds behind the steering wheel of a truck?
My first week of teaching tenth-grade English, I had a group of three girls approach me and start asking me questions about sex and pregnancy. It was basically a series of “Can you get pregnant if…” questions, and I tried not to be horrified as some of them told me they’d—wait for it—never had sex ed outside of the this-is-what-a-period-is and this-is-what-a-boner-is videos and a few handouts. But all these girls were sexually active, and it was clear even then that I wouldn’t be the one to talk them out of it, no matter how many times I said, “But tenth-grade boys are scientifically proven to be the grossest.” So, not yet familiar with what level of talk about sex would get me fired, I opted to say, “Just assume you can always get pregnant without protection.” And a year later, one of them did. Wah-wah.
Yes, I just wah-wah-ed teen pregnancy. Not sure what else there is to do about it if we’re too squeamish to actually teach them how to prevent it (“But that’s the place of the parents, not the school!” cries those who doesn’t understand generational poverty and the cycle of teen pregnancy).
Anyway, this goes to say that tenth grade is like an estuary where the freshwater of childhood meets the saltwater of adulthood but doesn’t necessarily mix. So it seemed like a wonderful age to make Jessica McCloud when her half-brother insists she starts discovering her miracles. It’s just miracles. No big deal, right? Welcome to adulthood, Jessica! Hope you’ve stretched out your rotator cuffs because here’s the weight of the world! But we all know you don’t have to be God’s only child to feel that way when you’re fifteen going on sixteen.
Is Jessica’s life a little chaotic in The Beginning? Yeah. But that’s all childhood. And It Was Good is where reality starts to rear its ugly head, and you know what teens do best when shit starts to get real? Resist it. Ignore it. Rebel. Because life is setting down some new ground rules, and they’re not mega fun ones. I still resent life for it, to be honest.
I don’t want to give away too much, though. If you want to see how the tender age of fifteen treats Jessica McCloud, it’s all there in And It Was Good.
What was tenth grade like for you? Did you get to enjoy the glow of the Friday night lights? Let’s reminisce together in the comments!
Just popping in to announce that my new book, The Beginning, is launching today!
So yeah, this is a sales pitch, but if you read my blog, I think you’ll genuinely like what I’m trying to sell you. And for a limited time it’s only $0.99, so even if you don’t like it, you’ve probably spent a dollar on worse things. Much worse things. Things you wouldn’t tell even your closest friends, things that would haunt the dreams of any decent person…
Anyway, click the cover to download it out on Amazon.com.
Check it out! And if you like it, book 2 is already available for pre-order and will be out at the end of the month. Yeah, this month. And then book 3 will be out next month. Yeah, that month. See why I haven’t been posting lately? I’ve been writing and publishing three fucking books. And there are even more in the series that still need to be written and edited and formatted and published.
Shit. What have I gotten myself into?
Last night was a ruff night.
Oh wait, you don’t get the joke because you don’t know.
I slept at the dog park. Let me explain. Continue reading
Just another complete mess. The waffles were bad, the jokes are bad, my hair looks stupid, and at one point I burp on camera. If you were expecting anything more, you need to rewatch the first three episodes and get with the program.
Also, stop putting it off. Just join The Collective already.
Not every waffle can be a winner. Just like not every episode of The Waffling can be the high-quality entertainment you’ve come to expect from a gluten-intolerant jerk, alcohol, and iMovie.
I know, I’ve set the bar too high.
P.S. You’re already on my blog that I mentioned. Want to see what I wrote right after I finished both The Waffling and my fourth beer? Click here.
Today is full of energy and potential and definitely not just Facebook.
Last night’s makeup under my eyes is a glorious sign that I am alive and right where I am supposed to be. Continue reading
The hits keep on coming because I keep eating waffles.
Can’t stop won’t stop.
I posted this on my Facebook:
Do you love breakfast foods and indecisiveness? Then you’re going to love my new podcast, Waffling.
IT WAS A JOKE, PEOPLE! But no. Noooooo. You all had to encourage me. So this is now a thing. You did this to yourself, but I apologize in advance anyway.
When you subscribe to stock photo sites, sometimes you can become desperate in your attempt to find the perfect image. Nothing seems right, and before you know it, you’ve slipped down a search term rabbit hole that is dark and fearsome.
That’s how I ended up searching for “sexy, rugged man.” And boy did Big Stock deliver. Boy, oh boy. And by deliver, I mean help me to discover THE sexy, rugged man. The one of whom the scrolls have foretold. BEHOLD! No matter what variety of rugged man you desire, Sexy Rugged Man has you covered! Continue reading
I had a pretty solid morning—productive, social, healthy. But now I’m wondering if I died at some point between when I left the house and when I arrived at Barnes & Noble for coffee… like a real asshole. Who meets for coffee at B&N in a town where, like, 90% of the businesses are locally owned coffee shops? This mastermind asshole, that’s who. Today was forecasted to be the perfect traffic storm of Friday + SXSW + Obama’s motorcade, so I thought, Where can I go suck on some caffeine without having to fight off a bunch of hipsters who want to talk about vinyasa yoga and Grandpa Bernie? See? Now you get it. I’m a genius. Continue reading
I imagine holding your child in your arms for the first time might feel similarly invigorating, but books don’t ruin your social life for eighteen years and then bankrupt you because they want to attend NYU (or literally any four-year university at this point) but didn’t bother applying for scholarships.
Anyway, books are awesome. There’s a tactile experience that you get from reading a book that is unique and gratifying. Nothing like being able to feel the gradual shift in weight from your right hand to your left over a period of hours as you burn through one page after another. And then there’s the smell. Mmm…
But here’s the thing. Continue reading
Guess what! I have a new book coming out next month called A Single’s Guide to Texas Roadways. A lot is about to be happening with it in the next few weeks, including an announcement of the official release date and the cover reveal. If you’re signed up for my mailing list, The Collective, then you’ll be the first to know as each important tidbit becomes available—this includes any promotions, giveaways, etc. You should sign up, is what I’m saying, because this is going to be a big year for my personal brand (I’ve officially become the thing I hate).
Oprah’s been making her list of favorite things for years, and I think it’s finally time someone stop her. Things have gotten out of hand. You ask the average person to list off their five favorite things they own, and “truffle” will probably not make the list. For the average person, her favorite things are those that keep her from wanting to just sort of lie down in the middle of her gross, carpeted living room floor, hoping that no one finds her there while she waits for God to give her a sign—any sign—that there exists a reason to get up off the ground. Right? I feel like that’s right. Continue reading
There’s something that became clear to me around puberty, and it really hasn’t changed: I don’t feel like a woman. To clarify, I didn’t feel like a woman before puberty and then suddenly stop feeling like a woman; I’ve never felt particularly woman-y.
I should probably clarify that I don’t feel like a man, either. That’s especially important to note since I’m still technically a newlywed and don’t want to freak out my in-laws who might read this. Continue reading