Tiara Me Sue

When I started using Instagram, it was really only a place for me to sort my pictures. My special  pictures would go here - the ones that I planned to use later in some way for my writing, crafting, or my new photography passion. Then I started publishing books and needed more of a 'platform' (I really only like that word as a description for a type of shoe). Facebook has been my social medium of choice, but I'm already too much in my friends' faces without me wanting to sell anything to them. Self-publishing means self-promotion (which sucks, by the way), and with a couple of new books coming out soon I had to step up my game. I'm by no means a niche writer; I don't even have one subject for my blog, and trying to force my focus down to one or even two subjects is a little too limiting for me (limits are the reason I barely use Twitter). What I post here now is me, all of me, because all of this that I post here is what inspires me in some way. I have a n...

In Celebration of a Life That’s Passed: Aunt Flo 1981 – 2019 (Good riddance, Bitch) St. Patrick’s Day, 1981, a glorious day for the onset of menses. Menarche - MALARKEY! You may wonder how in the hell I remember the date of my first period - and why I would want to remember it at all. I could lie and fall back on my line, “Writers are the recordkeepers,” but that’s bullshit. I remember because it was a holiday – at least to an 8 th grader looking forward to dressing up all in green for school that day. I guess we really can be suckered into anything at that age; I get it – it made the day different for us thereby encouraging a little more alertness. Any trick will do, with kids. That day, I wore red, too. The worst part about it is that I’d been waiting for it. I blame Judy Blume. Her book, “ Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret” was so relatable to young girls that it duped us all into thinking that starting your period was this wondrously awesome mileston...