Photo: Joseph Lyons
- Hello, Reader.
- My friends and I used to read this incredibly pretentious blog where the blog-writer was always addressing the Reader: singular, and capital-R. It works for Jane Eyre but let me put all doubt to rest right now: it doesn’t work for you.
- The longer I let toridotgov.com go without updating it, the harder it felt to update it. It was like I had to break my silence with some magnum opus: Here is What I Think About Writing, Here is What I Think About Love, Here is What I Think About Life. I didn’t want to write any of those opi (?!) at the moment, so I kept not-updating…but now, to cure myself of this stagnancy, I’m breaking my silence with the easiest of all literary genres: a list.
- The ENORMOUS IRONY is that I have been thinking about all those big ideas. That’s the thing about freelancing—it really forces you to examine things under a microscope. I mean, you could coast along forever writing listicles for $25/piece, but if you’ve got any sort of intelligence at all you’re gonna want to be constantly growing, expanding your writerly resumé, and usually working toward some vague end goal like Be a Great Writer or Sell That Screenplay or Get Published in The Atlantic. I have goals, some vague, some not…maybe I’ll write them down here someday, so the great choking hand of the internet can hold me to them. Anyway, I’ve been thinking a ton about writing—especially the way writing relates to money—and love and life and religion and the plight of the earth, but either my thoughts are still too vague to blog about or too precious to blog about or too convoluted to bl—HOLD UP, this isn’t a blog, I forgot. This is my “online portfolio,” and don’t you ever forget it.
- I have come up with a GENIUS money-making scheme that is already threatening to ruin my life. I sold a book (“Congrats!” “Oh, thanks!” Moving right along…), and in order to fund my extravagant lifestyle while I write said book, I have decided to first write a romance novel, sell THAT book, and live off the profits. It’s a sort of Russian nesting doll of book-selling, if you will.
- I’ve lived in Los Angeles for one year now! Whoa. I own only one succulent and a dead air plant, which in this, the city of succulents and air plants, is an absolutely disgraceful lifestyle choice.
- In this, my twenty-seventh year, I sold a book and got engaged (to the author of Charlie’s Opinions, no less). I wonder what twenty-six-year-old Tori would have thought of that. Multiple people have told me that massive changes happen when you’re twenty-seven. I love change—in fact I might be addicted to change.
- BUT!!!!!! In the six years since graduating college I’ve lived in six different apartments in three cities. I’m tiiiired, guys! Part of me wants to keep moving forever and part of me wants to buy a tiny white house in Marfa, Texas. Guessing I’ll fall somewhere in the middle: a flat in Paris and an apartment in every American city that inspires me (so, all of them).
- Note to all potential editors: do you want a piece written about the changing economic climate in Reno, Nevada??? I will gladly fly myself there and pay for my own housing. This is not a joke; I need to write a piece about Reno. No I am not copying Tom Wolfe!! No Vegas is not next on my list!!!!!!!
- I’m seeking a partner in crime for something very specific: I want to go to a diner, drink a ton of cheap coffee, stay up all night, and emerge the next morning having both written a film noir script. It has to be diner coffee and it has to be a film noir. Any takers? LET’S PUSH EXPERIENCE TO ITS AWFUL LIMIT!