Author Archives: PB Rippey

About PB Rippey

Writer, wife, mother, activist, fortunate.

Retreat!

Heading to the SCBWI Working Writers Retreat tomorrow. This will be my second time attending this annual event. The workshops are small and focused. I learn tons about my work (my middle grade novels) and it’s a joy to read … Continue reading

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Now Reading

Her latest Gamache installment has come along at the perfect time. Because after a death in the family, what better reading than a crime thriller as I deal with a myriad of petty family crimes in the wake of tragedy? … Continue reading

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Whoa, Bess!

I think of dysfunction as top-grade blinders put on a horse to stop it from spooking as it is forced to parade down Main Street–only the blinders are backwards, mirrored, prompting spooking and rump/withers-whipping by those trusted to lead the … Continue reading

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Death Poem

Orphan We are the children. Cream to curse. In- structed: here ya go, go, here ya, here ya go, go, go fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck Did you say that? Well. I did. Finally: where were you … Continue reading

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Washing My Inheritance

My then soon-to-be-husband stated (3rd date, my Echo Park, Los Angeles apartment with the spectacular view I couldn’t afford without working 2 jobs, the last apartment I ever lived in alone): You have a lot of rocks. My Echo Park … Continue reading

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Death & Reckonings

I’m being told that change can’t come without grief. Change was my middle name when I was a child… Pretty sure both of my parents would understand me writing about change as I work on a memoir (of sorts). Or … Continue reading

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Peace To You

When I was seven to ten years old, I begged her to let me stay home from school so I could hang out with her, picnic in the park behind our house (she made cheese and tomato sandwiches), just be … Continue reading

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Festival Weekend (creativity-obsessed edition)

Saturday morning, my husband and my middle-grade son zoomed to the Los Angeles Convention Center for its uber-serving of Minefaire. Minecraft. All. Day. While up the street at USC I attended the Los Angeles Festival Of Books. Mostly I hung … Continue reading

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Shazamski (Goodbye Stress Version)

We are selling our home. I’ve read that the 3 greatest causes of stress in a relationship can be: $ $ Moving Antidote(s)=deep breaths, low-salt diet, always the ocean, ordering at least 3 crispy tacos from a food truck on … Continue reading

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Window Out Of Revision

As I continue revising, it’s good to take breaks, even if only for a few minutes, as you probably know. If I’m working in a Starbucks or a library, I bring up pictures on my laptop that are gaze-inducing and … Continue reading

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Kitchen Fire: A Tiny PSA

You probably already know this–I should have, but did not. DON’T turn your back, not even for 3 seconds, on pre-made taco shells you think you can warm up in your toaster oven. Because when you do turn around, you … Continue reading

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Birthday Alarms

I was wide awake before Monday’s morning alarm chimed, plotting what errands I would accomplish, in what order– when my brain was hit with edits to my novel-in-progress. I threw back the covers and staggered for the dining room table, … Continue reading

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Retreat!

Faced with views custom-made to inspire writers, I didn’t. Write. Or edit the 50 pages I’d brought with me. Instead, I continued reading Michelle Obama’s Becoming. Occasionally I glanced up from the book and gaped at the storm–then I’d consciously … Continue reading

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Octopus Garden

Because of my love for the ocean and its creatures, I aspire to hosting this kind of ocean-themed party (thus avoiding my fear of scuba diving, while still having a great time, and without attracting great white sharks–no matter their … Continue reading

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BACK TO SCHOOL

I sing-songed like Snow White as I whisked open his curtains. I raved about the smell of cinnamon pancakes filling the house as I jumped on his bed. I hit him with a pillow as I encouraged him to seize … Continue reading

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Rain Or Shine: Strike On

A couple of weeks before the strike, I was John Snow: I knew nothing. There are always excuses I can credit a busy mother. But everyone is busy. I simply wish I had paid any attention to events leading up … Continue reading

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Never Forget

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~2019~

May the year be merry and bright and productive. And may I acquire a new laptop. And definitely completion of the current novel and definitely long before the end of this shiny new year. And may I continue to exercise … Continue reading

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Ho!

Busy keeping my butt in a seat this week before Christmas (see everything Anne Lamott has ever written about the writing process). My son is under-the-weather, and while his feeling sick is not great, we are taking advantage of the … Continue reading

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13 Years: Grateful

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Hunting

230am, the dog’s nose a wet Q-tip on my ear, his drunk-carny’s breath. I rise, stumble to the patio door, let him out. Waiting, I realize my right foot is wet. I panic:  blood? Cat vomit. I stumble to the … Continue reading

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Dav Pilkey in Redondo Beach

Whenever it was tickets first went on sale for this event? Stayed up until 12:01a.m. so that I could be one of the first to nab them. Can I just say–I’m glad I was a night owl as the event … Continue reading

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O Europa!

Volunteering at my son’s school library means I get to help kids discover books they didn’t even know they wanted to read–and also means I can check out books without exceeding my son’s 5th grade (3 books per student) limit. … Continue reading

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The Sequel Begins

My novel is completed (as previously blog-blurted) and sent to the interested party. And now I wait. Sort of. I’m halfway through writing chapter two of the sequel. My husband read chapter one aloud to our son at bedtime the … Continue reading

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REVISION

I finished my novel. All the writing, beach walks, and kitten-breaks seem to have paid off. I’m finished. Let the revising begin. Actually I’ve been revising all along. I adopted a habit of backing up a few chapters, reading/revising them … Continue reading

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