Category: writers
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Storytelling is Truth Tweaked
Way before writing novels, I was a storyteller. Before I could write, I used to come to breakfast and recount tales of elaborate adventures I’d had during the night with my stuffed dog, Checkers. The purpose was to garner my mother’s attention, a precious commodity given mainly to my manic-depressive brother and egocentric sister. The…
jcafesin
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On Networking
My second job out of college I was the Art Director for 1928 Jewelry Co. The company is still alive and vital today, quite a monument to startup lore. My boss, Fred Burglass, was the best boss I’ve ever had. Funny. Kind. Patient. Smart. I really loved that man. He was like a father to…
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On Writing Fiction
Am I two inches from the floor I can’t see, or the next step is a 200 ft drop? Been fighting myself over this since I started writing fiction. I face this battle every damn day I sit in front of my laptop, the cursor blinking at me, waiting patiently for me to decide if…
jcafesin
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On Self-Doubt
I had a meltdown about writing—the process of—this morning. Simultaneously, my son, a recent computer science graduate, did too—about job hunting. He emailed me while I’m melting down: I’m applying for jobs and contacting these people but when absolutely no one contacts me back I feel like I’m sinking. I just feel like a fucking…
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Food in Fiction
Ever had a blind date? While women are worried the guy is a psycho-killer, most guys are worried the woman will be fat. I’ve always had a…complicated relationship with food. I grew up in the 70s and 80s, when heroin addict thin was trending chic. My mother’s favorite actress was Audrey Hepburn, because she was,…
jcafesin
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Writer’s Block
…or The War Inside My Head I have time to write the 2nd draft of PT. Or, at least, I can make time. But I’m NOT WRITING it. Why? WHAT IS THE FUCKING PROBLEM? I CAN’T THINK OF STORY. HELL, I CAN’T THINK other than about my fucked up sitch, in the REAL WORLD, outside…
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Storytelling is Truth—Tweaked
Way before writing novels, I was a storyteller. As a little kid, before I could write, I used to come to breakfast and recount tales of going to Disneyland and other elaborate adventures I had during the night with my stuffed dog, Checkers. The purpose was less to entertain then to garner my mother’s attention,…