God DAMNIT people!
Can you guys please start emailing me advice questions? I wanna hear about all the stupid people who ruin your lives in tiny little ways and tell you what to do about it. That is why my email is GIMMIE THE GOSS. Give me the goddamn gossip. If you want to remain anonymous that's fine, but seriously I need you readers to start telling me about your Dealbreakers. Could end up in a little Chicken Soup for the Soul-style book. Kidding! Not about the book... just about the Chicken Soup bullshit.
Hey! I actually went to that cornball Jack Canfield's house one time (I know his son Kyle who hates me and has always hated me since the day we met, long story). He is very, very filthy stinking rich and lives in Santa Barbara. Have you ever read Chicken Soup for the Hip Hop Soul? YOWCH! I got embarassed just looking at it in the bookstore. Then again, I was swimming in the pool that was paid for by such helpful, healing literature.
You know what else kills me as a "writer"? You know those little books and calendars called "Bad Cat" and "Bad Dog" that are just pictures of people's pets in costumes? The three pals who put those cheesewhiz books together are fucking Bill Gates rich from those things. I got a copy of Bad Dog for Christmas last year froma neighbor and I look at it every day. I leave it out so I can see it EVERY morning as motivation to write my book(s). Most people have little buddhas and meaningful quotes and other sentimental or spiritual symbols around their homes to remind them of their goals. But not Veevs. I have a copy of Bad Dog on my dining room table.
But just so you don't think I'm a total loser, I also have a hand-written letter from my Jewish lady hero, Diane Von Furstenburg. It says on her letterhead:
Dear Aviva:
Thank you for your enthusiasm. Passion is what makes dreams come true. Hope to meet you soon.
Love,
Diane
And less than one year later I came to New York and got to work for her, an experience I will never forget. So to all you writers out there, just work your buns off. Even if you are writing an incredibly stupes book with pictures of O.P.P.s (Other People's Pets).
And to the rest of you readers, send me questions about ANYTHING and I will answer you, promise. Thank you!
xoxo
Hey! I actually went to that cornball Jack Canfield's house one time (I know his son Kyle who hates me and has always hated me since the day we met, long story). He is very, very filthy stinking rich and lives in Santa Barbara. Have you ever read Chicken Soup for the Hip Hop Soul? YOWCH! I got embarassed just looking at it in the bookstore. Then again, I was swimming in the pool that was paid for by such helpful, healing literature.
You know what else kills me as a "writer"? You know those little books and calendars called "Bad Cat" and "Bad Dog" that are just pictures of people's pets in costumes? The three pals who put those cheesewhiz books together are fucking Bill Gates rich from those things. I got a copy of Bad Dog for Christmas last year froma neighbor and I look at it every day. I leave it out so I can see it EVERY morning as motivation to write my book(s). Most people have little buddhas and meaningful quotes and other sentimental or spiritual symbols around their homes to remind them of their goals. But not Veevs. I have a copy of Bad Dog on my dining room table.
But just so you don't think I'm a total loser, I also have a hand-written letter from my Jewish lady hero, Diane Von Furstenburg. It says on her letterhead:
Dear Aviva:
Thank you for your enthusiasm. Passion is what makes dreams come true. Hope to meet you soon.
Love,
Diane
And less than one year later I came to New York and got to work for her, an experience I will never forget. So to all you writers out there, just work your buns off. Even if you are writing an incredibly stupes book with pictures of O.P.P.s (Other People's Pets).
And to the rest of you readers, send me questions about ANYTHING and I will answer you, promise. Thank you!
xoxo