Feminist. Sex goddess. High-brow gossip. Mama of
two three (!). Vancouver. Your lucky charm.
(‘Cuz yes, I’m magically delicious.)
Need more? Brace yourself.
I wish I was the bizarre love child of Hunter S. Thompson and E. Jean Carroll and possibly I am, but without the street cred – and honey, I could really, really use the press – and with the vigorous denials of my apparent birth parents, Mr. and Mrs. Diels. Dream crushers.
(Also without the drugs – which I hope my real parents Hunter S and E Jean did a lot of, enthusiastically, in the good ol’ bad ol’ days – and that is only because I am already way too sensitive and my own life is a trip and my natural nightmares already keep me up at night. Plus I have kids and Big Brother frowns on the raising of kids whilst high on LSD. Or so I’ve heard. I think this is why Mr. and Mrs. Diels keep insisting that that I am their biological love child, which is true, because I was born only four months after they were married.)
I use humour to be real but also to be really elusive. I’m sassier in text but softer in person. This is a very good thing.
When it comes to living a passionate life, I’m like a terrier with a tug toy – relentless and napoleon.
That being said, I want to own and seize and share my wild unabashed life-joy without actively or indirectly oppressing anyone else, and what’s more, I want to ensure that everyone has the raw clay and basic context they need in order to sculpt their own life according to their own vision except if it is Cubist which, news flash, has been done.
And lo, you can subscribe to this audacious vision.
Ah, art. I’m torn about run-on sentences, sentences that are paragraphs and give you migraines, and sentence fragments. I can’t decide which travesty I like better, so I use them all frequently, with the naked conceit that I am breaking the rules in service of my art, and yes my love I am completely aware of it and do it on purpose.
Then I drop the f-bomb.
And lo, you can subscribe to such scandal.
A hot man once told me that there is nothing sexier than an intelligent, polished woman who knows how to swear like a sailor. I believe. I believe. I digress.
I am also capable of straight writing and tend to do that sort of thing when enticed by promises of paycheques. So put away the grammar book. I KNOW.
And just in case I have to hit you over the head with it – I was trying to show, not tell, as per the teachings of many a creative writing class (note the mention of the creative writing class, this is called foreshadowing) – I am a WRITER.
So please hire me as your freelance wordsmith/genius -
my specialties are:
- The Yellow Brick Road, my two-week/seven session/one-on-one intensive that WILL transform your brand, all your web copy AND your writing skills.
- Red Shoe Blogger, a digital review and strategy session reviewing your entire platform for strengths, weaknesses and gaps in your content and narrative arc. You’ll end up with a detailed digital success strategy (MP3 + transcript + session notes + To Do List) for the next 6-12 months.
- Write Me, I’m Yours, your DIY guide (+ all day online workshop) to effectively, artfully writing all of your web copy yourself.
- Artful, Heart-full Blogging, my five week online course in how to really write a popular blog post (hint: it’s not what everyone else teaches you about blogging.)
- because the garret is growing tiresome.
I am also accepting patrons a la Gertrude Stein at this time.
That was not a come-on. Thank you.
PPS Or lo, you can subscribe by e-mail. It’s free; it will save you time (no need to check back over and over again – it’s right there in your inbox); you’ll get goodies and secrets and special offers only available to subscribers; I fiercely guard your private information like the Mama Bear I am; and I give good copy. Promise. mwah.
PPPS thankyouthankyouTHANKYOU for being here with me.