What are some life hacks that you practice?

View all responses

Cure for writer’s block: 

Go to your local beauty store. Amidst the bundles of hair and packs of spider-dollop falsies, you will find the fake nails. 

Now, this is important: choose ones you absolutely love. I don’t wanna hear that you don’t like fake nails. I don’t want to listen to you try and tell me you don’t love any of them. Fake nails come in as many shades and personalities as there are people seeking them. They’re like that; they match what is needed. If you do not see your nails here, they exist elsewhere. Find them.

You must love them, though. You must adore these nails. They can be–literally–any length. 

Preferably, though, they are long. If you ordinarily type with long nails, make them longer.

Spend a fortune on these nails. A nail-style fortune; maybe $19, if you’re feeling flush. Take them home and, following all the directions to a T, cement them to your stubby little human nails. Make sure to do this perfectly. Take a lot of time to do it.

If you are anything like me, this will be where it starts.

First, you will start to have ideas. These will be quickly interrupted by an abrupt need to shit, and then wondering desperately how you will handle shitting with these goddamn claws. You’ll figure it out, though. This post is not about how to wipe with nails.

Next, you will clean your nails. You will take some pictures of your nails in various lightings and situations. You will walk around claws out, held delicately before you, fretting about the weird feeling of them, marveling at how lovely they are.

The ideas will come even stronger.

You cannot type, though. You cannot type with these nails.

Haplessly, you will turn to pencil and paper, recording yourself on your phone, maybe you’ll scratch your ideas in the wall, I don’t know. Desperation will begin to claw at your innards, though. If hope is the thing with feathers that perches on the soul (debatable; hope has never been gentle for me), inspiration is the thing with claws that clambers up your throat. If you don’t let it out, it’ll carve out its home there and fester.

Your nails are so polished, so lovely.

You take scissors to them and lob them off at the point. 

Type, now, darling. You got this.