X100: Crimetown

They have names like:

• Charles "The Ghost" Kennedy

• Bucky Barrett

• Colonel Stone

• Tatiana (who is a wolf)

• The Doctor Broad

• Vincent "Buddy" Cianci, Jr.

• Billy Furley        

• Frank "Bobo" Marrapese

• Detective Vinny Vespia

• Raymond Patriarca

• Attila the Nun

• Louis "Baby Shanks" Manocchio

They say things like:

• "Listen, if you're going to be bad, be good at it."

• "When it was time for me to talk, I was ready. I'm like, you motherfuckers are going to hear the truth."

• "I didn't sell myself out, but, you know. You have to make arrangements."

All real. All true. Crimetown, Season One, Providence, Rhode Island.

x100: INTERSECT

Last night I read Ghosts, a YA graphic novel by Raina Telgemeier. I couldn't find my own book. My kids have read Ghosts so many times, its spine folds soft and easy like a tortilla. (Avoid composing similes when hungry.)

Today I'm reading The Hot One (I found my book!), a true-crime-meets-memoir by Carolyn Murnick. I'm interviewing Murnick next week for Spine.

Nothing outside — not blurbs, not cover design — suggested I'd find something similar inside these books, but I have. Both examine the ways the death (past and future) of a loved one changes the people left behind. Narrative serendipity! 

x100: Homecoming

Homecoming sucked me in from minute one. Part psychological thriller, part conspiracy mystery a la Lost, the drama tackles a complex storyline using only audio. Season One succeeded because creators Eli Horowitz and Micah Bloomberg figured out how best to tell a story within a strictly defined narrative space.

For Season Two, Horowitz teamed up with novelist John Brandon to carry one character out of the audio realm and into the textual with an ebook, The Lost Coast. Every time a podcast episode dropped, a chapter dropped.

I talked to Horowitz about what this transformation entailed. Read it at Spine.

x100: The Barefoot Contessa

On a plane, as I watch her on my seat-screen, I write the Barefoot Contessa.

The Contessa's voice is deep. Pleasingly practical. A voice of welcoming homes near the ocean.

The Contessa wears an expensively casual denim shirt.

The Contessa talks about her dear, dead friend who, while alive, made a mean tomato tart.

The Contessa tackles "fearless foods," things we are afraid to make, like salted caramel nuts. She says they're "scary."

I will say the nuts are scary if the Contessa will make them for me.

Scary nuts.

The Contessa wouldn't make that joke, so neither will I.

X100 = 100 words on whatever I — or you — want to write about. To submit, email me. 

x100: Healthcare

Of all the privileges I possess, healthcare is among the greatest. My children delivered. My minor health issues addressed before they ignited into major issues.  My healthcare keeps me moving.

I have struggled to understand the intricacies of the House plan vs. the Senate plan, how each affects this, that and the other.

What it boils down to?

House: 2018 = 14 million fewer people insured. 2026 = 23 million fewer people insured.

Senate: 2018 = 15 million fewer people insured. 2026 =22 million fewer people insured.*

Call!

*All figures = estimates from the nonpartisan Congressional Budget Office. Read more.

x100: Say Pretty!

My daughter and I waited behind a slew of boys for her turn for a T-ball photo. The female photographer arranged each boy in a batting stance none of them ever achieved during a real game.

The photographer offered sporty words for each player to say while the camera clicked. Say "strong!" Say "fast!" When my daughter stepped up, the woman arranged her, then prompted, Say "pretty."

The WTF that blinded me must be akin to that Smithsonian science writer Rachel Gross feels when she searches for images of female scientists. The WTF that prompted her to write this poem.

I would now like to share a poem I made out of iStock image captions I regularly come across @ladyxscience #OHnewsroom pic.twitter.com/dlJjGwPRfu

— Rachel E. Gross (@rachelegross) July 21, 2017

X100 = 100 words on whatever I — or you — want to write about. (Nonfiction. Fiction.) To submit, email me. 

x100: Miss P at The Vet

My parents have a kitten, Miss P. She is the Cutest Kitten Ever. (All kittens are the Cutest Kitten Ever.) I took Miss P to a new-to-me vet, who greeted Miss P with a crunchy treat.

After each poke and prod, Miss P received another treat. For the grand end-of-visit finale, the vet offered Miss P a spoonful of Mushy Yum. Miss P loved the vet.

The next day I read this article by my former W&M professor Barbara King. Making animals feel secure at the vet is now a thing. Should have happened forever ago. Glad it's happening now.

10 x 100: Fairy Shrimp

I love the random nature of my professional life. Yesterday I wrote a magazine piece that included drunken bees. I interviewed Sam J. Miller and we talked about superpowers. But the most magical yesterday thing?

Fairy shrimp. Fairy. Shrimp.

These tiny, translucent crustaceans come in several colors, swim upside down, and depend on the ephemeral for their very survival. Fairy shrimp live in vernal pools, the temporary ponds that form in spring and dry up come summer. They lay eggs on the edges of the pool. The eggs will only hatch if the pond disappears, and then reappears. Magical. Right? 

10 x 100: Ming Doyle

Where's Waldo? There. There. There!

Waldo turns 30 this year. Cabot Street Books, up the road a town, convinced retailers to let Waldo hide among their wares. Kids and I spent time Sunday seeking.

Favorite stop? Paper Asylum. The comic book shop offers a curated experience, including shelves highlighting local creators. I knew artists Braden Lamb and Shelli Paroline of Adventure Time lived in Salem.

I did not know artist Ming Doyle lived in Somerville! Ming illustrated The Kitchen, about four 1970s wives who get badass when their mobster husbands are jailed. She's amazing, and now I know she's local.

* 10 x 100 = 100 words written in 10 minutes. Ready, set, sprint!

10 x 100: Crow

Three giant crows called me outside this morning, screaming from a neighbor's tree. I went out and talked to them over the fence. Pre-coffee so I can't quite remember, but I said something along the lines of, "What the f*** with the noise?" They flew over to my yard, screamed another minute, then soared across rush-hour Bridge Street toward the hilltop park where my daughter plays softball.

They never told me their plan, but they probably had one. Like big humans and apes, unlike small humans and my cat Maudie, crows plan for the future. Really. Go read about it.

*10 x 100 = 10 minutes 100 words

5 Minutes 50 Words: The Write Space

Photo: Joey Phoenix Media

John Andrews and I created The Write Space to promote writers and show Salem from a different angle: creative workplace. We highlight artists and they highlight favorite local hangouts. Most recently I talked to prize-winning writer and professor Michael Gerhard Martin (Easiest if I Had a Gun).

Go meet him.

5 Minutes 50 Words: Daniel Benneworth-Gray

Designer Daniel Benneworth-Gray and I talked via email in June. He spoke of a life I know – producing, creating, and trying to think straight while working from home, where children live. Daniel's crazy talented AND produces one of the best things to arrive in my in-box, Meanwhile. Check him out.

Erika Swyler & Birthday Americana

When I write a story for Spine, my editor Eric Wilder assigns me an author, I research the author and their books, and I ask questions. Often (almost always) I fall in love with the author after researching and interviewing. I then buy the book and fall in love again. 

With Erika Swyler, the process happened in reverse. I was already reading her excellent The Book of Speculation when Eric asked me to interview. I interviewed her during a miserable week last winter. She was delightful, easy to talk to, smart, funny, and given my circumstances that week, a saving grace.

Looking for a coffee break read this morning, hoping to break up a grey day, I found Erika's Birthday Americana at Litro. On this dreary morning the story is, like Erika was last winter, a lovely saving grace.

Everything's Rosy

All my adult life, women have raved to me about pedicures. How relaxing. How soothing. Finally, five years back, I got one. I was visiting my parents in Florida and my mom needed a few things. She took me to a giant Walmart, which included an optometrist's office, a Subway, and a nail salon. She suggested I submit my feet to a pedicure while she shopped, and so I did.

I hated it. The foot massage felt akin to whacking my funny bone again and again and again. I looked around, and everyone else looked totally relaxed, perched on their pedicure thrones. Later, I did a little research on feet and wrote this story.

Everything's Rosy

Thanks to the Apeiron Review for including me in Issue 12!

Track Nantucket Launches!

Work is work is work. Except sometimes it's better work. More. The first half of last year, work involved exploring Nantucket via the island's history, geography, architecture, animals, people. For several months, I worked with ReMain Nantucket and a design team from Intrepid to create "Track Nantucket," an app that guides bicyclists on various tours around the island. My job? Content.

Project: Interesting, challenging, fun. Project team: Intelligent, creative, fun. Me: Engaged, interested, happy.

Go check it out at the app store!

Amy, Still

A few years back I wrote a story about a woman with attention deficit disorder. In part, it was an attempt to explain to other people what it felt like inside my brain. I came at the main character, Amy, from several angles before abandoning her and Mary, her work friend.

But after a mass shooting, I found myself thinking about the abrupt endings of the victims' stories and revisited Amy. Thanks to Across the Margin for publishing.

Read Amy, Still.

Spine Cover Reveal: Bad Princess

Excited to help Spine with its first cover reveal! Kris Waldherr's Bad Princess: True Tales from Behind the Tiara will be released in November. You saw the cover first at Spine! Thanks to Scholastic and cover designer Maeve Norton for your help.

Read all about it! 

The Siren Calls out from Middle Age

The stretch of Route 60 leading to Logan Airport is littered with prosaic mundane. The more I drive down it, the more I learn it – the garden shop lot full of cement containers, the liquor store sign with each letter holding its own square — the less ugly, the more varied, each bit of it seems. Nothing grows beautiful, but each thing possesses value, is worth consideration, by virtue of its existence.

Thinking about these ugly pieces grown less so over time had me thinking about middle-aged bodies, and that led to the poem The Siren Calls Out from Middle Age. Thank you to Punchnel's for publishing! 

GOOD-BYE DRIBBBLE

I came to Dribbble back in 2013 to help out with some writing. Sounds vague. Was vague. Dan and Rich were posting the occasional Timeout and newsletter, but wanted more written content focused on the great work being shared via Dribbble. Today I produce four pieces a week highlighting but a fraction of the goodness.

Helping grow what was an occasional Tumblr blog into Courtside, a home not only for Weekly Replay, born in those early months of 2013, but also a host of stories has been incomparable, akin to helping launch a small magazine. Few writers/editors are lucky enough to be part of that experience. 

Cue the cheesy music, because I also need to note how amazing the people are. 

The amazing people are the designers on Dribbble. Daily, I'm blown away by their talent, but also they're funny and kind and incredibly smart, and email me positive affirmations such as, "You rock, Susanna!" (Maybe, but to Def Leppard, not whatever you kids are listening to.)

The amazing people are also my coworkers, a list that has expanded from three back in 2013 to seven with a part-time eight on the way. (Interested in a part-time support job at Dribbble? Check it out!)  

Dan has been a boss of the cheerleader variety (hot pink pom-poms?), providing enthusiasm as well as spot-on guidance when I'm not sure which direction next. Plus he makes everything I write look great. 

My partner in the community department, Alison, deserves her own slew of "you rock" emails. I throw out an idea. Alison throws out an idea to make it better. That's the kind of person you hope to have on your team.  

Our crew of developers — Ian and Jeffrey and Patrick and Rich — are always willing to proof and copyedit, as is our designer Adam, who along with Patrick and Jeffrey, is my early-morning friend in the Slack room. I can't even begin to tell you what their jobs entail, but they are the wizards who make the Dribbble machine run. 

This list is making me cry. Sniff. Sniff. Sob.

Wait, if You Love Dribbble So Much, Why are You Leaving?

 Anyone out there founded a start-up? Or married to someone who founded a startup? That startup is a lot of your life, whether you’re the founder or the founder's spouse. Dan's a good friend of mine and Rich is my husband (and therefore an even better friend than Dan!). Dribbble's been a significant part of my life since 2009, and will continue to be a significant part of my life after my last day at the end of this month. Just not my job. 

In other words, it's time for something new. 

Such as?

With this blog post, I launch the official Search for the Next. 

Got writing? Get in touch.

Shoveling Ugly

The kids and I celebrated a recent, rare 50-degree day by rolling down the windows, turning up the radio, and driving around town looking at snow piles. They were many, they were ugly, and they provided a perfect visual metaphor for the general mood in New England.

Everyone I know in town has been agitated. The children are anxious, the adults are grumpy. (The pets alone are mentally on top, having been loved in excess for six weeks.) Were I a tear-teasing newspaper columnist or 20 years younger, I'd write a post about how this unhappy stage, this ugliness, is something we must push through to arrive at spring proper.

Just like life. Sometimes life gets ugly, but if we shovel and plow and plow and shovel, we'll arrive at spring, at happy renewal or welcome change.

But this is bullshit, right? Life isn't about pushing through the ugly. Life is about living with it.

Your friend dies a week before Christmas and your kids are no less excited for Santa, and no less lovable in their excitement. Your clinically depressed brother calls you while you're on vacation, and the sun sinking into the water is no less orange and your cocktail no less divine.*

My Twitter feed exemplifies this truth in 140-character bursts. Today: plane crash in France, tornadoes in Oklahoma, and "a shocking example of police practices used on the mentally ill" via the Atlantic.

But also, a Florida woman who packs 700 Easter baskets for local families, a newborn hippo in San Diego, and lots of good geek news.

In the last few years, I've found myself drawn to ugly things. I memorize details of commercial strips in downturned towns. I edge my seat closer to the loudest, unhappiest conversation at the coffee shop. I consider the aptness of metaphors to describe the dirty snow.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not embracing the ugly. Nor am I trying to transform it into beautiful via some psychological sleight of hand. Ugly is not the new black.

But ugly is life, a lot of the time, and ugly isn't scared away by the pretty things. I feel better knowing it better. On bad days, I know what I'm dealing with. And on good days, if the ugly rears its head, I'm more likely to spot the bits of lovely or absurd that sometimes hide in the middle of it. And plow forward when the lovely things aren't there.

That warm day a couple weeks ago, the mountains of snow wowed the kids and depressed me. The two seagulls hopping around on top of the tallest mound as if waiting for a Bora Bora tourist to drop a hand-cut French fry made all of us laugh. And then we went home and shoveled.

*I have no brothers. The friends are all healthy.