My Washington Post essay on why I don't want to get married

My essay "I love my boyfriend, but I never want to get married" is up today at The Washington Post's Solo-ish section. The title pretty much tells you what it's about. Whether you agree with me or not, I hope you'll check it out. Yes, I'm pushing myself to pitch new markets and kick my own ass in light of the end of my weekly column, and so far, it's working.

My Washington Post essay on hoarding and love

I have a new essay up at The Washington Post's Post Everything section called "Old magazines, stuffed animals and sex toys: How hoarding shaped my relationship." I wrote the subtitle, they wrote the title, and I also included the photo below of my old Brooklyn apartment. Here's the thing: when you write personal essays, you need to go all in, in my opinion. Not just for your editor's sake, but for yours. I've struggled with writing about some of the worst of my hoarding, because I'd like to think I'm "past it," but as you'll see in the essay, I'm not. Also, this is one of my biggest bylines, so if you like the essay (or feel anything about it, or just want to support my writing career), I'd love it if you'd share it, either publicly or privately with someone who may get something out of it. Yes, I'm a hoarder, but I firmly believe hoarding doesn't only affect "hoarders," but all of us. It's about what we do with our stuff and how we value it, and even compulsively neat people are impacted by fear of becoming hoarders. Also, it's about love, and I am in love, big time.

My essay "Recovery Envy" up at The Fix

I wrote my first essay for The Fix, called "Recovery Envy," which may sound facetious in a soundbite but if you read the essay, I hope it’s clear that I don’t mean it facetiously at all. I have the utmost respect for those in recovery, and anyone striving to improve their lives, by whatever means. If you like it, I’d really, really appreciate it if you passed it on in some way. And if you’ve never been to The Fix, it’s a website “about alcoholism, addiction, recovery and the drug war.” Thank you.

The beginning:

I'm not an addict, and I'm not an alcoholic. But as offensive as this may sound, I sometimes I wish I were, if only so I could have a language and a community to help me deal with what often seem like out of control urges—a structure surrounding me to help me cope with, well, life. But there are no 12-step meetings for people who simply have trouble getting up every day, who feel hollow and weak and unworthy, but who don't gloss over those feelings with a single, predictable vice. Over the course of my life, I've certainly used alcohol, sex, shopping and food to help quell those feelings, and they've each worked, in limited doses, but eventually their effects wore off.

The thing is, though, my rock bottom moments don't revolve around alcohol, though I've consumed my share, or drugs (I've attempted to smoke pot twice, and basically failed each time); sometimes it's food, sometimes it's sex, sometimes it's shopping, but I fundamentally believe that the core part of me that hates myself in those moments when I'm eating an entire box of cereal, screwing someone I'm not that into, or buying a pair of shoes I don't need and can't afford, is the same impulse that drove, say, my father or grandfather to drink (both are recovering alcoholics).

Keep reading

"I'm a sex writer with a secret shame - hoarding"

I guess it's not a secret anymore, because I wrote about it for Salon! Read my essay "I'm a sex writer with a secret shame - hoarding" and if you like it, please, um, like it on Facebook if you do that sort of thing and/or pass it on to someone who might be interested. And please note that is an over two-year-old photo and my apartment is not "neat" but is in much better shape these days, but there's still a long way to go.



This is the piece I had it in my calendar to follow up on a month after submitting and turns out they were interested. I’m glad…and a little nervous. My editor, Sarah Hepola, helped me see the big connection between sex writing and hoarding, which was something I’d tacked on at the end. I think it hadn’t occurred to me sooner because sex writing is such an everyday, literally every day, part of my life that it doesn’t seem odd or unusual anymore. I’m very honored to be published at a site I’ve been reading for years and years, and inspired to keep writing about the challenging things, with Adair Lara’s words from Naked, Drunk and Writing in my head. Here’s the beginning:

Over the past decade as a writer specializing in sex, I've dished about my erotic escapades, from threesomes to kinky parties to a date gone wrong with a Top Chef. I've posed with a freshly spanked bottom for a sex blogger calendar, masturbated on HBO's "Real Sex" and edited books like "Best Bondage Erotica 2011." Writing about my intimate life has never felt awkward. I didn't grow up with shame around sex and didn't carry any of it into adulthood. Divulging those stories, as well as fictionalizing fantasies about bukkake or webcam exhibitionism, has been a way to understand and come to terms with my desires. Because I've been so open, though, some people think I have no skeletons in my closet. And I do -- or rather, I would if the two-bedroom Brooklyn, N.Y., apartment I've lived in for over 11 years had any closets.

Read the whole thing

Modern Love Rejects has launched

My Modern Love rejection, from The New York Times Modern Love section, but of course, goes up tomorrow at Modern Love Rejects. I hesitated over giving permission, even though I'd submitted it, but then I realized, once again, that fear is the ultimate self-sabotage. That even if my essay is foolish and stupid, even if one could say the same about my actions (feel free), I wrote it. I finished it. I tried. The not trying is what makes me despise myself. So, yeah. It makes me feel a little squeamish, but maybe that's a good thing.

So check out the first three Modern Love Rejects, by Samara O'Shea, Kiri Blakeley and Alisa Bowman, and submit your own!

oh happy day: my Fresh Yarn acceptance

I don't know if other people have this, but I have certain goals where I feel like, "if I can do this, I've made it." Sometimes things come out of the blue, like my former Village Voice column, and they make me feel ecstatic (I will never forget standing in line for the premiere of Alfie and getting that call from Doug Simmons). For the past few years, I've said to myself, "if you can get published on Fresh Yarn, then you're a real writer." Really. It's one of my absolute favorite websites, and has pubished such amazing essays as "Diamonds" by Jill Soloway, "My Racist Aunt" by Todd Levin, and my all-time favorite, "Some Great Reward" by Elise Miller, about sleeping with Dave Gahan when she was 15. Even the titles, like Rich Caplan's "My Father's Penis" in the current issue, draw you right in.

I interviewed the editor, Hillary Carlip, about her book Queen of the Oddballs, for Bookslut, and knew her previously through her web design work. She's been so amazing and encouraging and supportive, and I'm so honored and bursting with excitement that my essay "Three Little Words" (which could be a Rejection Show read cause it was rejected from Heeb's Love issue and Babble) is going to be published at Fresh Yarn. I really had thought it wasn't going to make it, because this is about my fifth time submitting and I am always convinced my work isn't going to cut the mustard whenever I send things anywhere (or I'll be excited about it and then it gets rejected). I really like the essay and am sooooo glad to have anything pubilshed lately that has nothing to do with sex. My goal is to beef up that aspect of my writing, lest I get trapped in the dreaded pink ghetto forever. Not that there's anything wrong with sex writing, but I also desperately want to get a book contract for our cupcake blog book (our proposal's almost done so if know of any possible leads, get in touch, it's gonna be YUMMY!), and have other ideas up my sleeve. I'm thrilled to make money writing anytime, truly, but the things that count for me the most aren't always about cash, this being a prime example.

Don't know when it'll be published, it may be months because they only publish six essays a month, but whenever it is, I feel like I've "made it." Yes, getting a big book deal gave me that feeling too, and yadda yadda, "you shouldn't feel like you need external validation," but clearly, I'm a blogger, I do need that. This was truly thrilling news and I couldn't be happier about it. And this just goes to show why I'm not a businesswoman - the stuff that makes me most excited is not the stuff that pays the big bucks always (Fresh Yarn doesn't pay), but what makes me feel like I've accomplished something. Joining the ranks of such illustrious folks as Francesca Lia Block, Lisa Cholodenko, Ileana Douglas, Lori Gottlieb, Tania Katan, Todd Levin, Jill Morley, Kathy Najimy, Brett Paesel, Pamela Ribon, Sarah Schulman, Jen Sincero, Sarah Thyre and so many others, whose work I've read/seen, at a site that I think is so stupendously put-together and consistently amazing, fills my heart with pride.