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“Write on” and other puns writers probably don’t use, ever.

Originally posted on

When I turned 11, my sister gave me a journal. It had Tigger on it, and blue paper. She liked to journal, and thought that I might enjoy it too.

Fast forward 27 years and 40 some odd blank books later, and I’ve discovered that I love to write.

Writing is something that’s just stuck with me. Journals, stories, one completed slightly true to life story of my freshman year of college, letters, blogs, poetry, anything that involves writing words down involves me.

So, you can imagine the annoying feeling of incompletion that I face anytime I have writer’s block. I’ll be staring down at a blank page, trying to think of something – anything– to write that isn’t trivial. And I’ll have nothing. Thanks for the Blank Space, T.Swift, but I’ve got nothing more than a name to fill you.

I’ve tried a few tricks over the years. I’ve used the scrapbooking technique, I’ve tried writers’ prompts, I’ve even attempted to type when I’m feeling incredibly blocked. But that comes with the dreaded delete button, where you might be able to take away everything you think is wrong but at the same time, you could be deleting something that could be really write right. 

Again, with the puns.

Yesterday, I was in the middle of a coloring day with the Boo. He had a doodle book, I had an adult coloring book – all the rage right now. And in the midst of this coloring, I felt a strange calmness come over me. Coloring within these lines was practically therapeutic. All you had to worry about was filling in the blanks and that was all she wrote. Er, drew.

So with that, I busted out my old school Gelly RollsBack in the day, I had a few dozen of these in every color and texture. Um, lightning ink? SIGN ME THE EFF UP.

Gelly Rolls

Something about the color on the page made me feel better instantly. It wasn’t just this terrible white page I had to fill, and it seemed suddenly more do-able. I doodled on a few pages, not filling the whole page, but giving myself blanks to fill, and things to remember, and goals to reach.

FullSizeRender 2

It made me feel more like I wanted to write, and less like I would cramp up within 30 seconds of cursive (Left handers, for the win). I even started busting out my collection of stamps and washi tape, to make things more interesting. And then, when I was done with that, I sat. And I wrote.


What are your cures for writer’s block? Let me know in the comments!


the [snowboarding] Sunday, currently.

It’s honestly kind of relaxing to write the currently. This is my third Sunday, currently (Read One and Two here) and I feel a little better about posts constantly going up here on Chicks in the Mitt, because the prompts just clear my head out of all the drivel that gets in the way. You know who else likes writing prompts? English Teachers — like the one that had me write about the time my house caught fire while I was in the shower.

That’s a story, for real.

R E A D I N G Millions of old school assignments. I booted up an old family computer to pull off some tax information and found basically all my school work saved from about 6th grade through senior year of high school. I was quite the little story teller. 

W R I T I N G Valentine’s Cards, to go out for #LettersFromLA. I’ve been taking part in A Month of Letters, which means I’ve sent a piece of mail out every possible day of February thus far. You’re welcome, Grandma.

L I S T E N I N G to The Civil Wars’ cover of Between the Bars. I love the Civil Wars, so when I heard on NPR that an EP would be released on iTunesI  got excited and have been listening to this on repeat ever since. Also awesome — their cover of I Want You Back is amazing.

T H I N K I N G that I really wish I had more capable video making capabilities, because I love singing some of Joy Williams’ (of the Civil Wars) harmonies. Harmonizing with me, myself, and my sub par guitar skills sounds like a good time.

W I S H I N G I had a little bit more skill at guitar. Granted, considering the amount of time I’ve dedicated to it, I’m not terrible. But I kind of am. And I definitely wish I was better. Anyone giving out guitar lessons for free? Bueller? Bueller?

H O P I N G  for no soreness tomorrow. I spent part of the morning and early afternoon snowboarding with my old friend Arrington and his girlfriend. This brings my grand total of times I have snowboarded to four. Yes, I did fall. Mostly because I chose to fall, since I’m not very good at just stopping. Anyone not giving away free guitar lessons that is giving away free snowboard lessons?

W E A R I N G two different pairs of pants with zippers at the ankles. I’m so 1999. I don’t even know how one ends up with two pairs of ankle zipping pants, let alone ends up wearing them simultaneously, like some sort of zippered superhero.

L O V I  N G that I’m going to see The LEGO movie today. Boo might be excited, but I am ecstatic. 

W A N T I N G some Hot Cocoa, because that seems like the appropriate drink for the winter activities thing that I did earlier.

N E E D I N G to do some actual writing. I’ve been writing in the second book of my I’m not published, but at least now the first book is finished series and have hit a wall. I’m not sure what it is — but everything I’ve written lately for it just sounds like crap when I read it back. I need to sit back and take a break from it,  but at the same time, I just want to get it done. Also. I need to figure out what I’m going to do now that the first book is completed. Online publishing, maybe?
F E E L I N G like writing — but a completely different story from the one I just mentioned. Maybe I’ll just start an entirely new book. It’ll probably be about like…love. Or vampires. Or magic. Or fantasy. Or Dystopia. What’s popular nowadays, anyway?

.Link up to the Sunday, Currently here.

the [superbowl] sunday, currently.

R E A D I N G I just finished reading Mitch Albom’s The First Phone Call from Heaven. The one thing I’ve always appreciated about Mitch Albom is his books are one-sit-reads. Quick, enjoyable, and PLOT TWIST. 

W R I T I N G I’ve got my old journal which was started back in 2011 that I’ve been trying and trying to finish. I used to fill a blank book in two months with thoughts and ponderings and the like. I just cleaned out an old purse though, and it was filled with all sorts of mementos that I want to save. Plane tickets, concert tickets, photos, memories. I’ve decided that if I’m going to keep them, I need to put them in a journal now, lest they just sit in an old Coach bag forever in my closet.

L I S T E N I N G to Basia Bulat. The big sister (VS) introduced me to her song The Shore over Christmas, and I’ve been addicted ever since. The harmonies, you guys. The gorgeous, gorgeous, pee-my-pants-amazing harmonies. And then, you calm down about the harmonies and you’re like OMG, THE AUTOHARP. I tried to convince my Dad to buy me an Autoharp from Natural Wonders once. DOES ANYONE REMEMBER NATURAL WONDERS?!

Basia Bulat is actually coming to Grand Rapids on April 3 with The Head and the Heart and I’m pretty strongly debating going because I want to hold both hands up in the air and sing along to all the songs and all the words. Plus, it’s my birthday the next week.

T H I N K I N G that I might buy an autoharp. It’s a small instrument. It’ll fit right next to my guitars. They can all be friends.

W E A R I N G my church going clothes still. I’d like to also point out that I wore white jeans to church and they’re still clean. 

L O V I  N G that Peyton Manning is currently losing the Superbowl. I really don’t care at all for him. Or for Eli Manning. Or for the Williams sisters, or anyone else that participates in an OREO eating commercial.

W A N T I N G better commercials. Isn’t that what the Superbowl is about? The best moment thus far was when James Franco tried to sell everyone cars because Poof and I started texting Hoodie Allen lyrics to each other.

James Franco

N E E D I N G Hoodie Allen to release new music. What’s the phrase they use? Drop the album, or something like that? Well, drop the album, Hoodie. Let’s go.

F E E L I N G like twitter’s White Bronco jokes might be more exciting than the actual Superbowl.

Current Score: Seahawks: 5074915871, Bronocs: 17 close ups of Peyton’s face.

C L I C K I N G the refresh timeline on twitter. New jokes, kids. New jokes.

.Link up to the Sunday Currently here.

Genetics and stuff. As in, I made my child in my belly. BabyDaddy helped.

So, apparently, to go to kindergarten (literally, from German “children’s garden), there is a “screening” that needs to be done.

It makes sense. Basically, as I was explained it, the school checks on the kid’s skills, to make sure he is up to par to handle kindergarten (a big step up from the “pre” stages of life) and then if he’s not, gives you things to work on so he will be come the start of school.


My kid passed with flying colors because he’s mother beeping awesome.


We’re leaving the screening, and I’m talking with his new teacher (also mother beeping awesome). And she’s telling me about how thrilled she was to meet Boo, and how excited about school he is, etc etc.

Teacher: Boo has some great stories to tell!

Me: Oh yeah, he’s good at that.

Boo: Just like my mom.

[Teacher and I both turn to look at Boo]

Boo: On her blog.

Genetics, guys. Hard at work. Next guest blog, by Boo.


Bells, whistles, and other celebratory things.

The other day, in a fit of comment-versation, Nathan Triple Name and I decided to gang up and write a post or two together. You know, board games, sex, metaphors – Oh, the metaphors! – and other such interesting things that keep you people chuckling with me*.

Well, he asked me what next week’s post should be about, and I right away jumped on the monopoly bandwagon.

What kind of sex metaphor does Megapoly give?

Then, I started brainstorming, and went to write a draft when I realized it. 99 published posts. Next post:

glitter -

What exactly does one do to celebrate 100 published posts?

Board games?

Sexual Boardgames?


I’ll save those for another day. After all, you do not know about the great game I invented when I graduated high school, involving food, body parts, and twister.

You know what I’ll share with you today? 10 5 things I’ve gotten out of the last 100 posts.

Two thumbs up for blogging! And for this old picture I found, of me two thumbs upping!

1. The chance to write, write, and write some more. I hadn’t been writing as much before I rediscovered blogging. Sure, I had a xanga back in the day, but that went kibosh in college. I used to write in journals all the time too, but life gets busy, and that gets put to the wayside too. Then I found my way to the blogosphere. Blogging gets you more involved in what you’re writing. Instant feedback(unless you assholes don’t comment).

2. Chasing dreams, achieving dreams. I wrote a book. I’ve actually written four books. Bits and pieces of lots of books. Books and stories and tellings of things where you can see people stop and listen and take in what you are sharing with them. Geez, what a feeling. But I’m actually taking full fledged steps to try and get some of my stuff published. One of these days, guys. Something will be on the shelves with my name on it, and you’ll remember me from here.

3. Hi, friends. People that read your blog? They’re real people. You can be friends with them. 

4. Technology and I might constantly have angry angsty breakups. But at least we get along now. Some of the stuff that goes on with having a blog is having some technology know how. I have what’s called “shit breaks constantly around me.” But with a little patience, and a lot of friends who are more talented at this stuff with me, I actually feel competent about posting stuff. I even made my very own blog button. Yes, I know it’s not hard. I don’t care. Oh, and my phone doesn’t have a cracked screen right now. Knock on wood. 

5. L.A., this is L.A. Having a blog name was originally to protect the innocent.

Protecting the innocent

Protecting the innocent

 I blogged about life, to de-stress, to sort things out in my head, to be angry in a more healthy manner. To apparently piss people off (that acutally happened a lot). But somewhere in the realm of going from blogging about life and blogging about people, to whatever the fuck it is I’m doing now, I came more to terms with who I am. L.A., or Laura Anne, or just Laura, because no one actually calls me Laura Anne, ever. The blog is on facebook now, and even my mother has read the occasional post. Between tsk-ing me for the swears, she’s all,

You know Bunso, you are a good writer.

And that’s nice. I like those moments.

So, here’s to the last 100 posts. And probably another 100 more. I do have a lot of drafts saved of terrible, terrible stories involving texts that say:

Him: Do you know what I want for St. Patrick’s Day?

Me: the same thing I want?

Him: L.A. with a side of rainbow.

You never know what’s coming, guys.

P.S. What’s your favorite post on Chicks in the Mitt?

*Yes, I know you’re not chuckling with me. You’re just chuckling…around me**.

**Yes, I know you’re not chuckling around me, but chuckling at me. 

Challenge Extended: Challenge Accepted

The other day, I was ranting and roaring about how much trouble I’ve  been having being funny.

Inner Monologue: It’s because you aren’t funny.

Me: I’m so funny. I’m just having trouble writing it down.

Inner Monologue: That’s not true. I remember everything. It’s not funny.

Me: Liar.

Actual Other Human Being: …Are you talking to yourself?

This of course brought on the conversation where I explained why I was talking to myself and of course, the important fact that I’m not bat shit crazy, I’m just a blogger with some major issues. Those being writer’s block. Nothing more.


So, the actual human being checked out this blog, told me I was kind of funny when I’m not trying, and told me that obviously, if I just wrote everything down, something funny would happen, and then it would be captured in writing and the world would right itself.


Like I didn’t think of that.

Then, he proceeded to bet me the price of my dignity, and an additional $20 that I couldn’t continuously post for a whole week — which means something readable and more than fifty words and not totally judged and not posted would have to go up everyday. For a week.

No judgement for a week.

So, you people can be the judges. Once a day for seven days. Starting today, since by the time we made this bet, yesterday’s post had already gone up and APPARENTLY, in this establishment, small people are not allowed to ride dogs like horses. Or count previously posted blogs.

So, I’m brainstorming. Here’s what I’ve got so far:

Pickles, by the way, is one of my favorite comic strips. Because they are SO my parents.

That gets me, counting today, through four days of the week. I need some ideas kids. I’ll split the $20 with you. Between all my readers, that’s like fifty cents for everybody. And as Smash Mouth once said, we could all use a little change.

I lost count. Assume there's one for everybody.

I lost count. Assume there’s one for everybody.

Update, yo.

I’m saying “yo” an excessive amount today. It feels appropriate — like when I tell you all about how the bet is going, yo.

Day 1: You’re looking at it.

Day 2: A man works his magic. Like actual magic. Not sure if other “magic” was being attempted.

Day 3: Alto meets hockey. Hilarity ensues.

Day 4: #LettersFromLA still exists, but costs more. Ya’ll international folk owe me 15 cents.