the world & words of a new york city writer

gretchen is a writer in new york city

Tag: listening (page 11 of 41)

keep them guessing. not a brand.

I’m not a brand. Shout out to anyone who is.

I, am not.

I never want to be categorized as anything based on what I’m doing in any given moment. There are two things I’d own up to – being spiritual and being a Writer. But I’m not trying to create a “spiritual writer” brand by any means.

Part of the reason I love writing edgy shit that makes people uncomfortable is because I’m so calm on the surface. I’m also a wide-eyed romantic, which is why I also write love poems. Sometimes, in French.

I’m a paradox. Certainly not a brand. I’m not trying to be replicated. I certainly don’t want anyone to follow me. But I keep a tight crew. And you can be down… just be down. Don’t follow anyone.

I had a complicated morning. Later on I’ll write some dirty fiction based on fragments of the experience.

We can taste spring here in Manhattan today, it’s going to be 20 degrees C, around 72F. I’m about to get ready to go read the Wall Street Journal and observe the concept of money moving on Earth. Then I’ll write about it.

I have a really interesting job for a beautiful company, it’s a blessing – really.

I hope you are all well. I promise my next book is really coming soon. It’s gritty and complicated, like me.

Also, have you heard you heard Uncle Luke yet?

“My lifestyle should be banned in the U.S.A.”

French Stilletos

I’ve never made coffee in platform stilettos before. The French Connection pair I’m wearing are black velvet with pale pink bottoms. I stand close to six feet with them on. My legs are lean and long like the trunk of a young, growing tree. Oh, and speaking of French…

There’s a French painter in my bed. Since I live in a studio apartment, in a midtown east luxury building – the bed isn’t too far from the kitchen, where I’m preparing his espresso. Continue reading

baby. i just…

To(o) Much

I turned. My
Head facing a…
Howl. Like
Slowed.
I
Stop(Ped). I rode
A window to(o)
Touch.
He put a…
(Pen in my hand)
(Octave in my…)
Breath. Do you
Know the rhythm.
I. Strike.
Everybody talks
About
How we wrote right
And left
Handed while
I walked. Pas(sed)t.
Baby…
… Slow. (Mmm)
Ocean.
I scribbled. A
Way. That prove:
To,
Much.

safe bet

safe bet

i would never
tell
how he invited
he asked and begged
and i did… Continue reading

oh lord. who else soundin like this.

Namaste blog tribe

The book is bouncing and soaring around. Over the past two months, I’ve really visited each character and their complexities. I’m starting to add subtle details and motivations. And pages fill, paragraphs get slashed – and I’m creating something I’m really proud of.

In other news – we had an ill snowstorm last weekend, the second largest in Manhattan history, so I was told. We dove in snowbanks… I carried designer shoes in my Mulberry bag, slipping into open-toe stilettos during Sunday brunch at The Waldorf.

The dreaded January detox went pear-shaped this year, so it’s become the terrible February cleanse. No caffeine, no alcohol… and a very small amount of laughing and smiles allowed. I’ve been mad busy at work and frankly a Friday vodka is exactly what I need to look forward to trying to process 30 reports a day.

Work will be slower next month… that means more novel finishing time. And more exercise time. The gym is my second best friend lately, after the puppies.

Needless to say, I’m mainly trying to stay occupied and not lose my mind in the ugh of winter’s freezingness. I’ve already booked three tropical holidays for the year… and counting.

I still make time for other important things – cooking from scratch, going dancing, long walks around the city… I’m betting on these things to be amongst my saving graces during the terrible February cleanse.

Mainly, I’m excited to finish book. Then it’s time to plan my path back to Australia.

“Oh Lord. Who else soundin like this?”

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