I love to write, but I hate to write, too. I have written for a living for most of my adult life, and it’s always hard. I never sound the way they do in The New York Times or The Atlantic. But I’m afraid I can’t help myself.
I was published at age 5, in a local children’s literary magazine called “Breezes of Diablo.” The story was about a little Native American girl and her brother, who were throwing rocks into a pond. All of a sudden, a shark rose out of the pond and was going after the brother, so the sister yelled, “You stay away from my brother!” and threw more rocks. The shark retreated. The end.
I’ve also written for The Seattle Times, msnbc.com, Today.com, TodayMoms.com and Washingtonpost.com. I’ve written fiction, I’ve written essays. My profession, journalism, is cratering around me so my husband gently suggested that I blog. But I have to admit that I have blog snobbery (blobbery?). Anyone can blog, and lots of people do. There’s no gatekeeper, no editor. But pithy Facebook status updates just weren’t cutting it for me.
OK. So, I’m the mother of two adorable little boys, both adopted internationally. I’m married to Steve, who’s a wonderful father, a great husband and an all-around stand-up guy. I love chocolate, but not in the way that you love chocolate. If it’s a choice between vanilla and nothing, I choose nothing. My signature drink is gin and tonic. When I met my husband, I’d had about six of them, but that’s not why I agreed to go out with him. My favorite color is orange. My favorite video of all time is Ninja Cat.
I used to work full time, as an editor and writer, but I left in 2010 to raise my kid. I still freelance a lot. I’m a native Californian and I talk wistfully about San Francisco, but I haven’t lived there in 10 years and most of the restaurants and boutiques that I loved have gone out of business. I live in Washington State with my boys, two dogs, two cats and a very busy Roomba.
I named my blog The Swift Kick because A Swift Kick was taken. I almost decided to scrap the whole damn thing, because I was attached to that name. But then I realized I was stalling. Kick was my childhood nickname and it has endured, through sheer force of my family’s inability to let it go. And the swift part? Well, that should be obvious.