I write white papers, blog posts, & web copy for software companies, as well as book & TV reviews for The Los Angeles Times, LA Weekly, NYLON, & LitHub. Email me for samples of corporate client work.
Three of this year’s best literary thrillers tackle complicated women narrators and the murderesses who consume their thoughts. These books offer a necessary corrective to portrayals of women killers as hysterical or cold-blooded, and they draw complex portraits of narrators who have difficulty accessing their own anger or admitting to their own abuses of power.
With the publication of her 11th novel, Meg Wolitzer is poised to garner a level of critical attention most novelists only dream of. It feels like a long time coming, too (“Finally,” reads the parenthetical headline of her New York Times author profile). The Female Persuasion is hefty, and its subjects—which range from on-campus sexual harassment to the feminist movement to female mentorship—feel so of-the-moment that it’s easy to forget Wolitzer has been writing sprawling, ambitious books for her entire career.
I’ve balked at readings of Phantom Thread as a subversive triumph against toxic masculinity, at the idea that Alma is controlling Reynolds’s terrible excesses instead of the other way around. If there’s anything I’ve learned from struggling with codependency, with trying to undo what I have done to myself, it’s that Alma’s form of control has a false bottom. You’re no more in control of your partner or your father or your best friend than you are the weather. Really, Alma is poisoning herself.
What can traditional employers learn from the women who created spaces of their own?
If the whole process of translating a book to screen is so slippery and capricious, what, then, are the hallmarks of a “good” or “bad” adaptation? And how do you begin to write about them?
Success in online learning environments builds the self-esteem of students in recovery. The hope is this success will ready them to return to traditional college campuses and pursue degrees abandoned because of addiction.
In the 1930s, Elizebeth Friedman graced the covers of newspapers and was profiled by Reader’s Digest. She was a tireless and talented code breaker who brought down gangsters and Nazi spies. But after World War II, her story was lost, due partly to forced government secrecy, and also because her husband, William Friedman, was credited for work they did together.
As a former columnist for xoJane, Massey is no stranger to the confessional nature of women’s writing online. There is an industry that hungers—sometimes perversely—to promote the pain women experience, but a readership that needs badly to see their experiences rendered in writing—to know they are real, shared, understood.
In her new book, Too Fat, Too Slutty, Too Loud: The Rise and Reign of the Unruly Woman, Anne Helen Petersen examines how women like Clinton (“Too Shrill”) navigate near-constant policing and still manage (more or less) to embrace their supposed weaknesses.
In 2008, during the middle of the financial crisis, Imbolo Mbue lost her job. As Mbue looked for work, she started the writing project that would eventually become Behold the Dreamers—at least, this is the mythology that surrounds the novel that earned her a seven-figure advance.
But since 2010, the ACA had been making it easier to navigate the murky waters of life as an independent contractor in a shrinking industry. Sometimes the role of independent contractor is one that writers—like me—take on more or less willingly. For others, it comes out of the permanent loss of a good full-time job or the need to hustle for extra cash outside of a teaching position or part-time gig.
Drive eight miles off Connecticut’s Route 202 into the Litchfield hills, follow hairpin turns past fields of award-winning pumpkins and sedate dairy cows, and you’ll reach Washington Depot, population 3,500 or so, and the inspiration for Stars Hollow, the kooky small town where Gilmore Girls is set.