I'm Mik. Model, mother, moron. Future meta-magician. Former logic clinician.
My better half and I own Brainfood Bookstore in Longmont, Colorado. It is the only exclusively indie- and local-lit bookstore in the nation. We meet a lot of crazy folks.
Testimonial from a former roommate:
"Living with you was like living with a quiet little opinionated deer person who floated around like a ghost and said smart/nutso things and ate seaweed. "
I love Colorado. I love mountains. I love hiking. I read and write. I raise my children to the best of my ability. I have lupus and have defeated early-stage cancer twice, so I pretty much fully support the use of medical marijuana.
Catching Elephant is a theme by Andy Taylor
basically i have been trying lately to write instead of just crying all the time and it is very very hard to make myself do
You can now get this quote from What Happens If You Fall in Love With a Writer on a necklace… it even comes in sterling silver. Just in time for Valentine’s Day.
More What Happens If You Fall In Love With a Writer gifts here.
Friendly reminder that What Happens If You Fall In Love With a Writer gifts are awesome for writers for Valentine’s Day.
Reblog if you’re a fan of local lit!
What is local lit? Any book that is written or published in your community. Think no one in your community has written a book? Think again! If you can’t find local lit in your community, it’s NOT because no one in your community has written a book; it’s because no one in your community is selling local lit!
Help spread the word— ‘like’ the Facebook page and reblog. And don’t forgot to READ local lit, and encourage local bookstores and libraries to carry local lit!
What Happens If You Fall in Love With a Writer? is now available on mugs. And teapots. And necklaces. And neck ties.
Looking forward to out Halloween Open House?
- Trick-or-treating
- Giveaways!
- Readings and signings by authors
- info and resources for authors and writers
- Win a book or a gift certificate!
- Stop by at noon for a reading by Bob Flier, author of The Best From the Swamp. Perfect for preschoolers and other kids not in school!
Signal boost for everyone in Longmont!
John and I have officially launched our Indiegogo campaign! We are hoping to raise enough money to start our beer-and-bookstore. If you know any independent authors/ artists/ musicians, there are some great perks for them, so please send a link their way! Also, you can share on facebook/ twitter/ tumblr/ whatever. I don’t care if you can’t contribute a dime— if you can help spread the link, it will help us amount immensely! Thank you all for your support. <3
And be sure to check out Brainfood Venue on Twitter! :)
What happens if you fall in love with a writer?
Lots of things might happen. That’s the thing about writers. They’re unpredictable. They might bring you eggs in bed for breakfast, or they might all but ignore you for days. They might bring you eggs in bed at three in the morning. Or they might wake you up for sex at three in the morning. Or make love at four in the afternoon. They might not sleep at all. Or they might sleep right through the alarm and forget to get you up for work. Or call you home from work to kill a spider. Or refuse to speak to you after finding out you’ve never seen To Kill A Mockingbird. Or spend the last of the rent money on five kinds of soap. Or sell your textbooks for cash halfway through the semester. Or leave you love notes in your pockets. Or wash you pants with Post-It notes in the pockets so your laundry comes out covered in bits of wet paper. They might cry if the Post-It notes are unread all over your pants. It’s an unpredictable life.
But what happens if a writer falls in love with you?
This is a little more predictable. You will find your hemp necklace with the glass mushroom pendant around the neck of someone at a bus stop in a short story. Your favorite shoes will mysteriously disappear, and show up in a poem. The watch you always wear, the watch you own but never wear, the fact that you’ve never worn a watch: they suddenly belong to characters you’ve never known. And yet they’re you. They’re not you; they’re someone else entirely, but they toss their hair like you. They use the same colloquialisms as you. They scratch their nose when they lie like you. Sometimes they will be narrators; sometimes protagonists, sometimes villains. Sometimes they will be nobodies, an unimportant, static prop. This might amuse you at first. Or confuse you. You might be bewildered when books turn into mirrors. You might try to see yourself how your beloved writer sees you when you read a poem about someone who has your middle name or prose about someone who has never seen To Kill A Mockingbird. These poems and novels and short stories, they will scatter into the wind. You will wonder if you’re wandering through the pages of some story you’ve never even read. There’s no way to know. And no way to erase it. Even if you leave, a part of you will always be left behind. If a writer falls in love with you, you can never die.
What happens if you fall in love with a writer?
Dear 24-thousand-odd Tumblrites who have reblogged this particular post:
Hi. My name’s Mik. I wrote it. Did you like that post? I hope you did. You probably did. Why else would you reblog it? Well, some of you reblogged it to say not very nice things about me, but I’m pretty sure that most of you probably reblogged it because you liked it. At the very least, a few thousand of you probably liked it.
Well, I have something to tell you. Firstly: You guys really heightened my confidence as a writer. I was like, well shit, 24-thousand-odd people read something I wrote. And I didn’t even mean for them to. I didn’t know anyone would read it. How many people could I get to read something I wanted to be read?
So I self-published a book. That’s right, YOU freaks are responsible for this phenomenon. I spent 7 years writing, editing, and querying for an agent, and all it took was four months, thirty-five dollars, and a shit-ton of Tumblrites for me to publish it all by myself.
So now that I’ve said thank you, I’d like to give you my thank-you gift. That’s right, you get a gift. On Sunday, May 20, the Kindle version of my novel will be free all day. Here’s the link to purchase Turtle on Kindle; all day on Sunday, May 20, it will be for sale for the great low price of zero dollars, yours to keep forever or until e-readers become obsolete. It is also borrowable for free all day everyday from the Kindle Lending Library. I guess that’s just how libraries work, bro.
So, thank you. Please reblog so that everyone gets the gift… er, um, my gratitude… and keep reading and writing and making life magical.
Love,
Mik.
So, guess what. My Fiction professor has met Ken Kesey.
If you don’t know Ken Kesey, you can just fuck off right now. If you’re curious, he wrote One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, rode around in a bus with The Grateful Dead, and helped popularize LSD.
Anyway my professor was at a writing convention somewhere and he was looking for something and happened to wind up in the hospitality room— face-to-face with Ken Kesey. Kesey told him (my professor) that if he told a good joke, he could stay. My professor told a joke and Kesey must have liked it because he let him stay.
My professor had a beer or something and Kesey was drinking gin out of a large tumbler with a ratty sort of lime on it. When he thought of it, he’d put some ice in his drink— the idea being that he was drinking a gin and tonic— but really he was just pouring down gin.
They talked for about forty-five minutes before my professor worked up the nerve to, in Tumblr-language, fangirl all over Kesey.
“Cuckoo’s Nest was my favorite book as an undergrad,” he said. “And Bromden’s hiding in a closet at the beginning, practically incoherent, you know, he’s just living in this fog, and by the end of the book, he willfully smothers McMurphy as an act of, you know, friendship— some say love. And I just— I just have to know, how did you come up with it?”
And Ken Kesey is sitting there, gripping his gin, sort of tilting back and forth with his eyes going in opposite directions, and he says, “Hell, kid, I don’t know!”
My professor said that what we can learn from this story is that all writers are liars, but I think that’s a bunch of bull.
10 Cult Literary Traditions
yeah… Guess who will be carrying a towel around everywhere with them this May 25th?
What happens if you fall in love with a writer?
Lots of things might happen. That’s the thing about writers. They’re unpredictable. They might bring you eggs in bed for breakfast, or they might all but ignore you for days. They might bring you eggs in bed at three in the morning. Or they might wake you up for sex at three in the morning. Or make love at four in the afternoon. They might not sleep at all. Or they might sleep right through the alarm and forget to get you up for work. Or call you home from work to kill a spider. Or refuse to speak to you after finding out you’ve never seen To Kill A Mockingbird. Or spend the last of the rent money on five kinds of soap. Or sell your textbooks for cash halfway through the semester. Or leave you love notes in your pockets. Or wash you pants with Post-It notes in the pockets so your laundry comes out covered in bits of wet paper. They might cry if the Post-It notes are unread all over your pants. It’s an unpredictable life.
But what happens if a writer falls in love with you?
This is a little more predictable. You will find your hemp necklace with the glass mushroom pendant around the neck of someone at a bus stop in a short story. Your favorite shoes will mysteriously disappear, and show up in a poem. The watch you always wear, the watch you own but never wear, the fact that you’ve never worn a watch: they suddenly belong to characters you’ve never known. And yet they’re you. They’re not you; they’re someone else entirely, but they toss their hair like you. They use the same colloquialisms as you. They scratch their nose when they lie like you. Sometimes they will be narrators; sometimes protagonists, sometimes villains. Sometimes they will be nobodies, an unimportant, static prop. This might amuse you at first. Or confuse you. You might be bewildered when books turn into mirrors. You might try to see yourself how your beloved writer sees you when you read a poem about someone who has your middle name or prose about someone who has never seen To Kill A Mockingbird. These poems and novels and short stories, they will scatter into the wind. You will wonder if you’re wandering through the pages of some story you’ve never even read. There’s no way to know. And no way to erase it. Even if you leave, a part of you will always be left behind.
If a writer falls in love with you, you can never die.
What happens if you fall in love with a writer?
Lots of things might happen. That’s the thing about writers. They’re unpredictable. They might bring you eggs in bed for breakfast, or they might all but ignore you for days. They might bring you eggs in bed at three in the morning. Or they might wake you up for sex at three in the morning. Or make love at four in the afternoon. They might not sleep at all. Or they might sleep right through the alarm and forget to get you up for work. Or call you home from work to kill a spider. Or refuse to speak to you after finding out you’ve never seen To Kill A Mockingbird. Or spend the last of the rent money on five kinds of soap. Or sell your textbooks for cash halfway through the semester. Or leave you love notes in your pockets. Or wash you pants with Post-It notes in the pockets so your laundry comes out covered in bits of wet paper. They might cry if the Post-It notes are unread all over your pants. It’s an unpredictable life.
But what happens if a writer falls in love with you?
This is a little more predictable. You will find your hemp necklace with the glass mushroom pendant around the neck of someone at a bus stop in a short story. Your favorite shoes will mysteriously disappear, and show up in a poem. The watch you always wear, the watch you own but never wear, the fact that you’ve never worn a watch: they suddenly belong to characters you’ve never known. And yet they’re you. They’re not you; they’re someone else entirely, but they toss their hair like you. They use the same colloquialisms as you. They scratch their nose when they lie like you. Sometimes they will be narrators; sometimes protagonists, sometimes villains. Sometimes they will be nobodies, an unimportant, static prop. This might amuse you at first. Or confuse you. You might be bewildered when books turn into mirrors. You might try to see yourself how your beloved writer sees you when you read a poem about someone who has your middle name or prose about someone who has never seen To Kill A Mockingbird. These poems and novels and short stories, they will scatter into the wind. You will wonder if you’re wandering through the pages of some story you’ve never even read. There’s no way to know. And no way to erase it. Even if you leave, a part of you will always be left behind.
If a writer falls in love with you, you can never die.
