He was walking next to me, one step ahead, turning to face me, pausing so I could keep up. “You’re going to a bar? Off campus? With people who aren’t students?”

“I am.”

When I was in college, I got to get out of my college bubble because I dispatched as part of my work-study. I was poor, so I had work-study, grants, aid, and a small loan. Being a security dispatcher meant that I talked to and hung out with people who weren’t students, professors or staff. My college was pretty great. But honestly? Between that dispatching job and interning for Janet T. Millsfor two summers when she was the Androscoggin County District Attorney? It’s where I learned the most about the world and people.

The other student stopped, turned to face me and said, face full of raised eyebrows and slack lips. “Why?”

“Your face is a question mark,” I told him.

“You are devastatingly weird,” he huffed and walked on. A second later, he said, “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Why not?” I liked the people at work and at my internship.

“Because it’s unsafe,” he said. “You don’t—They are older than you.”

“Not all of them.”

“They aren’t students.”

I stopped now, right on the edge of the campus where the student housing ended and the Lewiston apartment buildings began. “So, students are safe, but regular people aren’t?”

He didn’t have a real answer. I went out to that bar because I was always doing things back then that made me uncomfortable, that made me learn, and I watched a coworker sing “You Don’t Bring Me Flowers” with a skinny, pale guy on the fiberglass karaoke floor in a bar that smelled like 90s cops’ thick deodorant, chewing tobacco, and beer. Half the bar was cops and people from the DA’s office, though not the DA, and the other half were people that the cops had arrested before, that I’d seen in the courthouse. They all mingled together. Or at least they did that night.

The guy my coworker was singing with had a criminal record and a frame that barely held up his skin; brown hair leaked past the ridge of his t-shirt. She sang a song she hated, but she knew her voice sounded good when she crooned out Streisand, even when she had too many.

“Thank you,” she said to the totally inebriated guy and to the drunk audience. She thanked the guy out of professional courtesy not because he sang well. He didn’t.

“Welcome,” he replied so loudly that it came over the microphone and we all laughed. He took a bow.

He didn’t leave her side when she walked back to our table. He ordered two margaritas and paid.

“I might sleep with him later,” she told me, leaning in, all alcohol breath.

He said to her, still so loudly, “You’re beautiful singer.”

“Thank you.” She flipped through the book of karaoke songs and the guy was off to the john. She looked at me. “You never go up there and sing.”

“Can’t do it,” I said.

“Why not?”

“Too scared.”

“Of singing?”

“Of sucking.”

On the way back, he-who-was-not-afraid-of-sucking clapped along and took the microphone away from a man serenading some fishnet wearing girl with a country song I didn’t recognize. He strained to wiggle his hips to the rhythm while he sang. He couldn’t. He tried some pseudo sexy pelvic thrusts.

“Carrie is afraid of singing,” Jessie announced.

my art that I’m always so afraid to share.

He eyeballed me and his hand clung to the curve of Jessie’s back. “Carrie looks like she’s afraid of a lot of things.” He leaned forward so all I could smell was him; beer sour, tobacco stained-breath. “You are afraid of your own damn voice, aren’t you?”

I was. Jessie wasn’t. He obviously wasn’t. But I was and I still kind of am, but I’m working on it.

Every week, I’m trying to learn that it’s not the end of the world to get a small detail wrong and that you can correct that detail and that it’s way more important to focus on the act of speaking, writing, singing, reporting, doing. It’s way more important to enjoy and be a part of the process.

But it’s so hard sometimes.

How about you? Are you finding ways to be brave, to put your voice out there, to sing and not worried that you might not sound awesome? I hope so. I hope you do.

Also, I made a QR code for my art place. How cool is that?

“Lovely but creepy” is me in the campground bathroom apparently

So, yeah, today I was singing in the shower at the campground and I didn’t realize that I was singing. It was some sort of unconscious thing. 

And I heard someone gasp. 

And then I realized that I was singing quietly, “Pretty women, fascinating, sipping coffee, dancing. Pretty women, are a wonder.”

And I gasped. 

The person outside the showers said, “I heard you. It was lovely. Just kind of creepy, Carrie.”

“Like me?” I yelled out. 

She laughed and left. The door slammed shut behind her. 

I still do not know who this person was. I would totally put this in a story, but it feels like an editor would be all, “Carrie. Dude. This is unbelievable. Nobody would be that dorky.” And then I’d have to admit the truth that it really happened and that it happened to me and be embarrassed all over again. 

So, instead I’m just blogging it here.


My new book, IN THE WOODS, is out!


It’s with Steve Wedel. It’s scary and one of Publisher’s Weekly’s Buzz Books for Summer 2019. There’s an excerpt of it there and everything! But even cooler (for me) they’ve deemed it buzz worthy! Buzz worthy seems like an awesome thing to be deemed! 

You can order this bad boy, which might make it have a sequel. The sequel would be amazing. Believe me, I know. It features caves and monsters and love. Because doesn’t every story?

In the Woods
In the Woods


You can buy limited-edition prints and learn more about my art here on my site. 


You can get exclusive content, early podcasts, videos, art and listen (or read) never-to-be-officially published writings of Carrie on her Patreon. Levels go from $1 to $100 (That one includes writing coaching and editing for you wealthy peeps). 

Check it out here. 


A lot of you might be new to Patreon and not get how it works. That’s totally cool. New things can be scary, but there’s a cool primer HERE that explains how it works. The short of it is this: You give Patreon your paypal or credit card # and they charge you whatever you level you choose at the end of each month. That money supports me sharing my writing and art and podcasts and weirdness with you. 

Going After Your Dreams

Do you all remember when Susan Boyle, 47, British, showed up on that television show, which I think is like American Idol, sort of. I’m not sure. Britain’s Got Talent? Maybe that was it? She sang “I Dreamed a Dream” from the musical Les Mis.

Anyway, people expected her to suck, mostly because she did some unexpected movement with her hips before she sang and because she was not super model beautiful. She said she’s always wanted to be a professional singer, to sing in front of a super big audience. People snickered.

Then she sang.

She did not suck.

People cried.

And I totally wanted to be her. I wanted to be the one singing and making people gasp and cry and stand on their knees all because of my voice.

Marsie the Cat: Humans, you all doubt yourself too much or else you are ridiculously arrogant. Why is there no middle ground? Let me claw your leg into submission.

Singing like Susan? That’s not a dream I’ll ever get.

First off, I was never even in show choir. And I have never auditioned for The Voice or American Idol.

But I was in this song and dance company.


We wore costumes like this. *hides head in shame*

But let me say: I was paid.

So, I think this counts as being a professional singer, right?  *clears throat* Of course, we played places like Chuck E’ Cheeses or the Masonic temple in Manchester, NH.


I am happy to say no pizza was thrown on me during the Chuck E’ Cheese performance.

Sarah Silverman, actress, comic, was also in the group. So was Bridget Walsh, the third national-touring ANNIE! I was totally out classed. I never had one of those big show-stopping solos.


I also never got to perform with a dog. ;(

I don’t think I ever will. I kind of gave up on that dream. But I never gave up on the dream of writing. I am still working on that one.

I want to write in a way that people sing. I want people to gasp and feel and laugh and be on that journey with me, because of my words. And yes, even though some of my books have been bestsellers, I live in constant fear of never being traditionally published again. I live in constant fear that I’m not good enough.

And my other dream? I’d like to somehow feel like I’ve made a difference in the world. I’m not sure it’s possible for me to even feel that way when humanity has so much pain and needs so much. Anything I do is never going to feel like it’s enough.

Lots of times I feel like my dreams impossible. I keep plugging along though. Because if there is one thing I know? It’s that my dream is definitely impossible if I don’t try.

Do you have dreams? Are you still going for them? Are you feeling unmotivated? If so check out that old video because Susan didn’t give up on her dream and for a few minutes her voice was all that mattered.

Remember, your voice matters, too.

Random Marketing and Book Things

My nonfiction picture book about Moe Berg, the pro ball player who became a spy was all official on March 1 and I’m super psyched about it. You can order it!

Kirkus Review says:   A captivating true story of a spy, secret hero, and baseball player too.

The Spy Who Played Baseball








The podcast, DOGS ARE SMARTER THAN PEOPLE, has a new episode tomorrow, Tuesday. Check it out.

My Post-2 copy

This is my middle grade series, TIME STOPPERS. I love this series. Allegedly it’s like HARRY POTTER meets PERCY JACKSON but with even more heart? Weird, but I’ll take it. It’s the story I wrote a long time ago. It’s the story that I submitted when I applied to Vermont College.  More about it is here.
I owe it.
I owe it a lot.
%d bloggers like this: