One of my friends called Sunday night to ask me about becoming a writer. I suggested she get a blog. There is no other way to become a good writer without writing constantly or at least daily. She asked me then what she should write about. I gave her the advice that a mentor once gave me: “Write what you know. Just write about your life." Hey, it’s worked for me. She pointed out that her life isn’t as dramatic as mine. “D, your life is like a movie. That stuff doesn’t happen to everyone.” She was afraid her blog would be boring. I haven’t accepted that my life is more dramatic than most. Admittedy, it helps that I am surrounded by people who can go for tit for tat with my experiences. But I tend to think that if most people described their lives in narrative, pointing out the minutia, telling details that are usually only significant in hindsight , always making themselves the main character, and leaving out the dry parts of their day, their world will seem equally intense. That and I find that the moments I expect to be big and defining rarely are. I’ve noticed a theme to the way I write—and hence, the way I live-- and the stories I chose to tell. If you ever analyze the posts critically, my greatest flaw and perhaps best asset as a writer are one in the same. I took a screenplay writing seminar a couple years back. I can trace out any good movie or story by its “beats" now. Someday I’ll explain that and it will ruin movie watching for you until you forget it. In the meantime, know that every blog has the same set-up: Belle thinks X will happen, everything but X does. Story editors call that that the mark of good-plotting. I call it a bitch of a way to live.


Maybe it was the high of Stevie Wonder that made me do it. Listening to a man sing (live, no less. Yes, he showed up to the party) for hours about love and possibilities and hope can make a woman do unexpected things.