The Cure for Perfectionism

May 25, 2016

Hi, my name is Avery and I am a recovering perfectionist.

(I know I am not alone.)

Many of us suffer from perfectionism the way one suffers from a never-ending flu: we can’t stomach our inadequacies and burn fevers of not-good-enough, we toss up our flaws like we’re tossing up our cookies.


There’s no harm in self-improvement. But this constant striving and reaching for unattainable goals, our pursuit of perfect, well it is a disease.

It is killing our joy. It’s killing us.

So what is the cure? Okay, the truth is this: I don’t have the answer.

But I’ve been searching, I’ve been trying. Because to be honest? I am exhausted– I am tired of sitting in this space of if only  and I wish  and maybe if I didn’t and maybe if I wasn’t.

Friends, are you tired of striving? Are you drained, are you spent from keeping up the charade? I know I am.

Thankfully, there is hope. There is sweet relief.

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Let’s Get Real: A Social Media Challenge

May 23, 2016

Hi friend, how was your weekend?

I don’t know how you filled your days: parties and road trips, dinners late into the night? Plane flights, final destinations, plans plans plans. Maybe you worked. Did you sleep in or are you scraping by on power naps, late nights, early mornings? Hangovers. Time to yourself, cuddles on the couch, cooking in the kitchen. Did you finally crack the spine of your new book, call your sister, or take a long run near the ocean?


True life: caught on my phone more than I’d like to be

As full as your Saturday and Sunday was, or wasn’t, I want to ask you this instead.

How is your heart?

Sure we can post pretty pictures and Snapchat the heck out of dance parties and clinking glasses and hiking trails in the middle of the woods. We can surround ourselves with faces and warm bodies and lose ourselves in Netflix, bottles of wine, attention from that one guy, and weekend plans.

But at the end of the day, how is your heart. Is it aching? Is it lonely, or is it full?

I’ve been asking myself some hard questions lately, taking some time over these past two weeks to create space to really dive in to some internal work I’ve been putting off during the excitement of my move. And now I want to invite you along.

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Why I’m Writing a Novel in 100 Days

May 19, 2016

The problem with writing fiction and posting it for everyone to see is this: people think it is true.

Friends, parents, ex-boyfriends, coworkers– they squint at the glow of their computer screen thinking, hey that sounds a lot like me. Did I really say that?  And Why did she give me tattoos?


There’s a reason there are disclaimers on the first page of novels & short stories:

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

I’ll be honest: coincidence  is a loose term.

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When There is Magic to Be Found

May 16, 2016

When I first moved to San Francisco, I saw magic everywhere.

There was magic on my walk to work and on the bus ride home. On my bustling street, at the park around the corner. Winding along the massive Trader Joe’s Sunday night lines. Baked into my favorite bakery’s bread.

In every glimpse I caught of the Golden Gate Bridge.

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Celebrating Janine for her birthday!

I was in love with my new home. There was an elation attached to even the most mundane daily task. Pure magic. 

And then, I lost it.

Well, the magic never went away per se,  but for a little while it was harder to find.

There were familiar faces I missed. There were goodbyes still stinging my heart. There were uncertain relationships and boundaries I couldn’t create and intentions I questioned. There were nos and there was loneliness and there was hurt, too.

But this weekend, oh– this weekend, I came back to the magic.  

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To All Those Who Told Me No

May 13, 2016

To all of those who told me no, I say thank you.

To the hiring managers who I didn’t hear back from and the jobs I wasn’t qualified for and the resume reject piles, thank you.

To the dates that never called again, to the boys that didn’t text back. To the one with the courage to walk away, thank you.


To the exclusive clubs and the other sororities and the college Honors program and the publications I submitted writing to that said thanks but no thanks, you’re not a fit for us.

To the friends who didn’t invite me to the birthday parties and vacations and lunch tables and nights out.

To my 6th grade English teacher for placing me in the lower level writing and reading group when I asked to be in Advanced.

Thank you.

To my parents, for my 10pm curfew and not letting me quit swimming in high school and for stopping me from dying the underside of my blonde hair black a la  Avril, THANK YOU.

Oh, the nos– bearing the sting of rejection, the crushed spirit of defeat, the twinge of helplessness and wants unmet– today I am grateful for you.

And here’s why.

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