At what point did productivity become worth dying for? At what point did we stop feeling, and just start doing? At what point did our lives turn into a never-ending assembly line, where the work is never done and we are never done? And at what point did we become okay with it?
At what point did productivity become worth dying for? At what point did we stop feeling, and just start doing? At what point did our lives turn into a never-ending assembly line, where the work is never done and we are never done? And at what point did we become okay with it?
My first thought was: OHHHH, SHIIIITTTTTT. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! I should’ve been thrilled, but instead, I was worried about—ready for this?—the wallpaper. “They aren’t even going to see the wall,” C tried to assure me. “Just your beautiful, beaming face.” “Yeah, my beautiful, beaming face…inside what looks like a prison cell! What kind of successful person has bare walls?!” I said it with a level of disgust I usually only reserve for condensed milk and people who drive
Remember yesterday when I was like, hey, let’s talk about getting exposure for your little biz? And remember yesterday when my hair looked like a wet wooly mammoth? (Oh, wait, you didn’t see that part. Well, for the record, my hair yesterday was seriously HAVING A MOMENT.) And remember yesterday when I was like, you can totally get your business, product, or services featured in the newspaper and in magazines and even on TV…for free…if you know what to say
I’m dying right now. DYINNGGGGG. My college friend, Andee—a (hilarious) running coach for desk-potato entrepreneurs who need to get off their ass (*raises hand sheepishly*)—just texted me a link, right? And here’s the freakin’ preview: Um, WE KNOW THAT GIRL! That was young, naive 2009 Ash—a previous version of myself that, apparently, used to look okay in red?!?!?! (I never wear red anymore because I think it exacerbates the redness around my nose. Thank you, Irish-heritage broken capillaries!) So you
THANKS TO MY INDUSTRY, I say the word “magnet” far more than I’d like. It’s never not reminded me of “maggot,” so yes, I think about housefly larvae rather often. Lead maggots. Lead magnets. …I really wanna say maggot. Then again, some lead magnets really are lead maggots—as in, they are these tiny little turds of uselessness that have no place in your business or in clogging up the internet. But the tricky part is that if you’re new at
So the other day I’m eating a giant meat kabob (not a euphemism) at a restaurant in Central America, when the manager— a dear friend whom I happen to know have gotten drunk with in my twenties—came over to jingle all the bells (also not a euphemism), talk shop, and send me off with a proper bottle of wine to go. This place that I speak of: it’s an Argentine grill. As in, open flames, actual cow carcasses, vegetables the
Repeat after me: You are not a bother. You are not a bother. You are not a bother. You are not a bother. You are not a bother. YOU ARE NOT A BOTHER. You’re doing me a favor by being there. You’re doing all of us a favor by bringing your work into the world. But god dammit, if you leave me out—if you do not tell me about all of the ways that you can help me, and if
What are you the poster child for? Now this is a great fucking question. I like it because it cuts straight to the meat—none of this “if you were a flying pony, what color would your saddle be?” nonsense. If you’re trying to brand yourself—or, hey, even figure out the theme of your work, your book, your message or your online dating profile—this is a question that can net you some real answers. What are you the poster child for?
“Make 50% of the population hate you.” My editor reminded me of this the other day when we were talking about the main argument of my book. (And then I immediately wanted to tongue her.) Because that’s what arguments do, after all: they stand in opposition to something. They take a stand, plant their flag, and proclaim something they believe to be true—that, by design, not everyone will be able to agree with. You don’t want everyone to agree with
