Tag: confessions
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How Not To Write in Cafes: Confessions of an Antisocial.
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in #WisdomWednesday, Art, Author, Authors, Blogging, Book Blog, books, bookstagram, City Guide, Confession, copywriting, Flash Poem, Flash Poetry, Kansas City, literary fiction, literary nonfiction, memoir, networking, nonfiction, Poem, poet, Poetry, publishing, rough draft, sketch, spontaneous combustion, stream-of-consciousness, success, travel writing, travelblog, travelblogger, writingConfessions of an Antisocial Writer. Cafes? Don’t do it. For he love of all things Didion! I mean, I get it, there is this undeniable sex appeal. This intrique: scattering your notes across that old bistro set, the heady demitasse begging for your lips: what’s the WiFi code? Nah, I write longhand.
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From the Rooftops of Granada — an excerpt from my manuscript for ‘The Outsider.’ A Confessional Memoir/Novel on Identity, Love, Travel and Revolution in the Arab Spring.
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in Adventure, Art, Author, Authors, backpacker, Backpacking, Blogging, Book Blog, Confession, existentialist, history, In Another Country: Novel, Kansas City, literature, love, memoir, Middle East, NaNoWriMo, nonfiction, novels, poet, Poetry, publishing, Review, rough draft, Spain, The Outsider, Travel, travel writing, travelblog, travelblogger, traveler, writingI mean, it’s not cheating if nothing happens. Oh, but emotions run deep. Which begs the question: What’s worse, an emotional or a physical affair?
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Opening lines: A Story About Identity, Revolution, and What it Means to Be a Modern Human. A Work in Progress #LiteraryFiction
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in #WisdomWednesday, Adventure, Africa, American Road Trip, Arabic, Archaeology, Art, Author, Authors, backpacker, Backpacking, Blogging, Book Blog, books, existentialist, knausgaard, literature, memoir, nonfiction, rough draft, The Outsider, Travel, travel writing, travelblog, travelblogger, traveler, writingExcerpt from The Outsider: A Memoir? “The sky out my window is that fiery red which makes the heart swell with life and there it is again: that sensational expanding within my chest, rising to my throat, gripping and stinging my eyes.”