Strippers and Cinderella Stories

Artists, of all kinds, are truly tortured souls. We feel not only a sense of obligation to all humanity to use our gift to document our journey, but also experience a drive to create that is so intense it is practically involuntary.

Like breathing.

The purpose of my blog is multi-faceted. Yes, I write because I feel compelled to do so, and yes I blog because it’s somewhere that I can experience instant self-publication gratification. But it’s also a writing career necessity.

Take this story for example:

Diablo Cody was actually working as a stripper in Minneapolis and blogging about the vulgar and ridiculous adventures this “it pays the bills” stint created. Her humorous writing style caught the eye of a movie producer who happened to be, ah hem, surfing porn one cold and lonely internet night. He stumbled upon Cody’s blog and was so engaged by her wit and literary voice that he emailed her and asked her if she had anything else.

Her answer?

Yes. She'd actually just spent the winter sitting in the corner of a Starbucks at a Target store down the street from her apartment hammering out a story on her unreliable laptop.

The producer loved it and the rest is Academy Award history.

Cody's story won an Oscar for best original screenplay in 2007:

Juno

A fairy tale ending made possible because of one writer's determination to "put it out there."

To blog.

To write.

To breathe.

Does that mean I have a gold statue in my future? Who knows, but you can’t live it if you don’t dream it first.

So, here’s an excerpt from my novel, Dating Land fans. I am slowly chiseling away at it chapter by chapter. The blog is taking somewhat of a hit because of it, I completely confess, so instead of making excuses about how pathetic my dating life is and whining about my dry spell, I’ll give you a glimpse into something that I’ve actually been putting a lot of energy into.

(As always, thanks for reading . . . and yes, if someday Reese Witherspoon is up there getting a little gold bald man statue for playing a character based on moi, you are all SO invited to the after party!)

~Audra

Dating Land; The Novel

I have been divorced for all of two years so I am just now starting to figure out how to navigate this eternally confusing social scene. There are rules and guidelines and a whole butt load of things that I know nothing about, considering the last time I dated Kurt Cobain was still alive. Computers existed but they didn’t fit on anyone’s lap, at least not comfortably. Now, technology plays such a vital role in dating that I am oftentimes more lost than an Eskimo at the beach. For example, it took me a few go rounds before I realized that if I texted a guy and he didn’t text back immediately that that doesn’t warrant a panic attack, it may mean he just got a phone call from his aunt Debra. Now, twenty four hours later and still no reply? That’s code for “go away I do not like you and do not have the balls to actually tell you that in person. Read my silence.”

Honestly, there should be some kind of re-introductory program for people like me looking to date again after being married for so many years: “Dating Rules for the Desperate and Divorced.” Perhaps something modeled after the program inmates use when completing a significant jail term. Instead of, “So, Bobby Joe, since you went into the slammer in 1970 a lot has changed. This is a microwave and this is a dvd player,” my version would be “So, Audra Kutz, since you quit the single scene you no longer need to be home to take a phone call but you also need to learn how to text witty, charming, and “sexy without being slutty” messages in 160 characters or less while operating a motor vehicle, which is technically not safe but sometimes vital in certain dating scenarios.”

Sigh.

It’s enough to make me want to switch places with a reformed criminal. I mean really, how intimidating can a microwave be?