A Writer’s Thoughts: Potato Salad and Writing a Novel

It was midafternoon when I popped in my wireless Bluetooth earbuds, blasted Depeche Mode, and walked to Trader Joe’s. The BF and I decided that a German potato salad on ciabatta buns sounded good for lunch, so I went hunting for bacon, a red onion, chocolate milk for him, and alcohol for me.

The wall of fog in the west has been creeping closer all day. It builds up higher and higher, creating a frothy foam on the bottom of the clear blue sky. A dramatic backdrop to the hills of buildings that dip and rise like rollercoaster rails.

architecture bridge building clouds
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

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The air nips and whips strands of loose hair around my head. I must keep my hair pulled back in a bun or plastic claw, or it’ll come alive in the wind and blind me. Sunglasses on, I squint, looking for a shady side of the street with taller buildings that can block out the wind and sun.

I’m still in love with SF and consider it a trillion times better than living in Utah. And I can’t believe I’ve lived here for over a year.

For once, TJ’s wasn’t packed with people in a hurry. The store’s speakers echoed old tunes; the layers between their music and DM’s cover of David Bowie’s “Heroes” created a comfortable sound wall-headspace so I could shop in peace.

It’s bittersweet shopping at TJ’s when it’s the closest option for affordable groceries.

Hand-basket contents:
-one red onion
-one half-gallon carton of chocolate milk
-one box of green tea
-seedless red grapes
-4-pack of chocolate muffins (for the bf)
-ciabatta buns
-uncured no-sugar bacon

anonymous customer with shopping basket picking bell peppers
Photo by Michael Burrows on Pexels.com

I wandered up and down the beer/wine aisle, trying to pick anything that isn’t a thirty-something-dollar bottle of gin (which is what I really want) or a weak <5% beer or cider. Not many German beers to choose from, which is what I would’ve preferred to pair with the potato salad, but that’s fine.

I settled on a 4-pack of sparkling Italian rosé (10% ABV), which is perfect since I found out a couple of nights ago that an 8% IPA doesn’t give me a buzz like it used to. The problem right now is that I’ve run out of gin, I’m working through a bottle of Kraken rum that tastes like candy, but I’ve been more in the mood for something bitter with a kick. But really, I just want more gin and can’t convince myself to spend the money on an entire bottle.

I’m going to start writing another novel this year. October will be my planning month, scribbling down ideas and playing with scenes, plots, and character descriptions. November, well, that’s National Novel Writing Month, so the plan is to write my novel then. I’ve completed NaNoWriMo before, but the last two times, I gave up on a story about a woman slowly losing her mind in a haunted apartment and traveling between two centuries. Before that, a bildungsroman about a 20-something guy with a mental illness who finds out his gay ex-girlfriend was murdered.

Really, it’s fun being inside my head.

crop elegant business lady taking notes while sitting at desk
Photo by Karolina Grabowska on Pexels.com

Find out more about NaNoWriMo HERE

The last three months have been a slowdown period for me. I quit my full-time job, began freelancing more, and picked up two laid-back part-time jobs entirely different from what I’ve done for the last two years. I’m happy and in shock.

I hadn’t realized how depressed I was and how much I hated my job. Its negative impact on my mental health was so thorough I feel like I’ve crawled out of a six-foot-deep ditch. Working graveyard shifts from 7pm to 4am was melting my brain and ruining my health, and I figured out that working remotely full-time wasn’t good for me either. I need human interaction. Being isolated while having only a few hours of sunlight to feel like a human being pushed me to quit as soon as possible.

Now sleeping a total of eight hours at night, my mind is unclouded. I’m out in the city more, and I’ve lost weight (the heaviest I’ve ever been was working at home during the beginning of the pandemic).

I love being out, people-watching while I work in the city, and having evenings to spend with my BF when he comes home instead of squeezing in a “Hello” or “How was your day?” in a one-hour break before he would go to bed.

I’m healthier and happier but still combating the devastation of Roe v. Wade being overturned. Now with talk of a stupid National Abortion Ban bill, I know it’s just a matter of time before more rights are stripped away.

The rise of Fascism rooted in White Nationalism and Christianity in this country is a sickness. As time ticks by, I wonder how rotten things will really get.

My thoughts are on the women of Iran protesting for their freedom. My thoughts are on Ukraine and the Russians fleeing in fear of Putin. My thoughts are on Jackson, Mississippi. My thoughts are on Puerto Rico, and the list goes on…

It’s bleak.

A Writer Talks: What’s Happening? War, Politics, and More

I bought my groceries and sauntered home, letting the blustery wind cool me off. It’s a balancing act. Staying focused, calm, and grateful daily for food, shelter, and the privilege of living in SF. Some days are more complex than others because underneath it all, there’s this quiet current of decay that I feel pulsate through the country, reverberating across the globe. Is it my own decay that I’m projecting on the world?

More challenging times are ahead, or at least, that’s what I’ll always suspect.

I pull out my phone and switch to the playlist “The is The Cure.” I miss picking out CDs, searching for vinyl and inspecting the grooves, and going to bookstores or the library every week.

I cross California Street and analyze the tops of buildings, corners, and crevices. I don’t know anything about architecture, but I recognize the styles that resonate with me. I aim to capture just the bits and pieces of SF that stand out to me and put my haphazard collection on Insta. I can snap a shot of always on the lookout for a scene.

Prepping for National Novel Writing Month: Recommended Writing Books

What’s my next novel going to be about? I’m not sure yet. Although I’ve been thinking about realistic fiction a lot lately, I don’t know how could I write anything and not let what’s happening bleed in one way or the other. I won’t stop it from happening, but what would it be like? Maybe I could attempt to capture the mood, the desperation, the fear of the unknown “What now?”

How can I write realistic fiction without my life bleeding into the story? What can a woman (an Atheist living a child-free life by choice) add to the conversation? I’ll let you know.


What I’m excited about: I’m going to My Chemical Romance next week in Oakland!

What I’m reading: Writers on Writing

What I’m watching: The Sandman and I am dying to read the comic too!


Looking for a professional writer, alpha/beta reader or creative writing mentor? I can help! Check out my Services HERE

A Poem for My Love: Poetry Mentor

Synonymous with romance, poetry is known by most to be a form of communication between lovers. Diving into the depths of adoration, poems can draw on imagery and metaphor to evoke longing. You can convey desire, or even the loss of a loved one in poetry. Like a red red rose, a poem can symbolize love and admiration. So if you’re scratching your head and scrawling “A Poem for My Love” you are not alone.

Gin & Juice and an Obsessed Poet

I’m a poet, a weirdo, and an artist, and I’ve written many love poems for my partner over the years. Poetry I felt was near worthy now lives in hidden places among letters and precious scrapbooks chronicling our life together.

It’s difficult to write poetry, period. But to write poems, say, loves poems for a wife or love poems for a husband may inspire surrender. I’ve thrown out countless poems, shredded scraps, and deleted documents like the FBI was watching because I felt what I wrote was garbage. I’m sure, on some level, it was.

But don’t give up. It’s easy to look up famous love poems and if you’re gutsy, take a crack at writing a rhyming poem, a sonnet, or even a haiku. Doesn’t matter if it’s blank or free verse or just bits and scraps of what you want to say. Write it down, mull over it, make yourself a drink (I’ll take a good pour of gin and a splash of mango juice), and get to it.

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Write a Poem for Your Love and Work on It

Read it over, read your words aloud, mumble them to yourself, try different voices, memorize a few lines and explore where your mind takes you when suddenly you forget what to say next, and something else pops out.

Years ago, Ovid’s love poems were recommended to me when I first started writing love poems. I picked up a used paperback copy and read it front to back. Impressed by the style, vulgar honesty, humor, and true words of deep affection, it’s still one of my favorite collections to reread. Chances are, you’ve been directed to Shakespeare, Robert Burns, and the like, but I don’t have a list for you.

I have something else.

Liked this post? Read ~ Poetry Publication: Sea or Seashore Poetry Anthology

A Poetry Mentor Dedicated to Helping You

Take my advice in this post and do what you want, but if you feel that you need more help. I’m here to work with you on kissing your lips poems. Let’s write a holding you until sunrise poem or worshipping you forever poem.

If you need another set of eyes from a poet, a writer, and someone dedicated to helping you convey how you feel to your loved ones in a poem, connect with me today. As your poetry mentor, we’ll explore together and make your words come alive.

Interested? Check out my Creative Writing Mentor service, which also includes poetry here. You can learn more about my publications, previous readings, and education by visiting my About page. Want more? Check out my Linktr.ee and get a feel for who I am and what I like to write (poetry first, everything else second).

I’ll be here, waiting and ready, popping open a bottle of cheap Rose and skimming poems of Gary Snyder, Maggie Nelson, and Adrienne Rich. See you soon!

Professional Writer and Mentor Helping Clients With Writing Needs