I feel a bit funny about always taking the extra banana from the fruit vendor on 9th, but I do it anyway.
My sister tells me this is how people like me get into trouble. What she may or may not realize is that I wrote the book on trouble—it’s just that nobody bought it.
I’ve actually written several books on various sorts of trouble. I’ve only showed one or two manuscripts to people, only actually shopped one around. One agent wrote back to me, “When you have a story that is not your own, get back in touch with me.”
No thank you. I had a weird moment of clarity a few months after that in which I realized that instead of using my writing to share painful stories, I could use it to spread positive ideas that could help people more directly.
Sometimes I feel a bit guilty for neglecting my fiction and essay-writing since I spend so much time and energy doing other work for my jobs and school. I do get to do a ton of writing and blogging, at least, it’s just about different subject matters.
It’s been an interesting path so far, and kind of funny to see how after a while, writing about sex is so much less interesting than writing about, oh, I don’t know—Chinese medicine, vegetarian protein sources, or weird findings and goings-on around the city.
The closest I come to writing about sex lately is when I have to write fertility-related blog posts (check here for the latest one), but somehow, I think that’s okay. I feel like in a few years (or many), I’ll look back and see that the stars were, in fact, in alignment.

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