My life is good. I never have enough money, my house needs work, my job requires too much attention, my novel isn't a best seller, and my art needs more of my attention, but I have this incredible luxury of being to make things. I have a desk where I can sit and write or …
Sometimes I read articles about other writers and artists (like today, this one here), and I want to dive into a story of my own and make something as exciting. Well, I can't do a comic book or anything like that, but in some interviews, I can feel the enthusiasm come off the page and …
I've thought of a dozen topics to write about only to run out of steam by the time I get to my computer. At least this summer I don't have chemo. My hair is growing back. Slowly. I hate short hair, but I'm glad it's coming back. I might have lymphedema. Might not. I've got …
How do you think a unicorn starts its day? As a kid, I wanted to be a unicorn. Sometimes I would wish to turn into one. Ah, childhood. I don't suppose I can be a unicorn and a writer. Unicorns can't type. As far as I know. Tomorrow will be a year since my surgery. …
Okay, maybe in that picture I'm just typing an email. It's hard to say for sure. But my husband took that picture around the time I started my novel--in the year 2000 or 2001. And that's the laptop I started writing it on (RIP first laptop) and the desk I was sitting at. I certainly …
A few years ago, I dressed as rejection for Halloween. I pinned all of my rejection letters to my jacket and a red, paper, broken heart to my jacket's lapel. I wrote "No!" and "Go away!" on the palms of my hands. I took my son's toy collapsable knife and pretended every so often to …
Some friends may think this is aimed at them. It isn't. They may have inspired me, but that's not the same thing. When was the last time you changed your mind? I don't mean you decided not to have your usual Monday breakfast. I mean, you changed your mind about the death penalty, abortion, climate …
On Fridays I sit in the infusion room and get my chemo cocktail. You'd think, stuck in a cushy chair attached to tubes that I could use that time to write something interesting. I sit here for about four hours. Surely I could do something useful. Most of the time though my mind wanders and …
Whenever someone mentions bees, I want to shout, "The bees are disappearing!" If you're a Doctor Who fan, you'll understand. But the point now is that I'm illustrating a children's book about bees. I've never drawn bees before, so this is a challenge. This might sound crazy, but most of the time, I don't actually …
I've started several blog posts that I haven't finished. Percocet took over and I couldn't think. And everything I write seems ridiculous. Trite. Meaningless. I don't have anything to add to the cancer narrative. I can't add any original observations. I've started reading two breast cancer memoirs. I finished the first chapter of one of …
Marta Bacon 