Jessica Jackley has a gift for making people want to fork over their cash. To total strangers. Far, far away.
I find the term 'workaholic' to be distasteful because it reminds me of the harried-looking lawyers I recall chained to their desks through nights and weekends during my lawyer days years ago.
What bothered me most about chick lit, frankly, was how the term was used to dismiss a huge chunk of the bookstore as silly, girlish prattle.
Good advice is just watch what you say on Facebook, on Twitter, on social networks because being sued is not fun. Filing a lawsuit is not fun. And being fired and having to do all of those things is not fun. So just avoid it.
The best jokes resonate because they uncover ridiculousness in our daily lives, reveal the silliness - and sometimes sadness - of things we see every day.
I am pro-choice, but I don't consider that inconsistent at all with pro-life - there's no way that having an abortion, ever, is an easy decision, and it more often errs on the side of absolutely wrenching, not to mention physically debilitating.
Seeing how easy it has been to use Twitter for good has exposed the double-edged sword of how easy it could be to co-opt.
Law school and summer camp are the two experiences that inform pretty much all I do.
There's a tendency, when the offspring of a famous person does something notable, to define them by their more-famous parent.
My weekends are oases of time and space, where I am able to draw a breath and dive into the stuff I couldn't get to that week - the great article I bookmarked, the friend whose emails I kept dropping, the blog post I'd meant to write on a subject that wasn't timely but was still important.
On the Internet, everybody has an opinion about everything, but if you're smart, you know when to keep your mouth shut.
We live in a world now where everything is tweeted and Instagrammed and tagged and now, God help us, Vined. Calling out grievances over Twitter has become an industry norm.
New York apartments are notoriously small, and my cute little studio is no exception - space is at a premium, which is one of the reasons that I only have a mini-fridge. Great for leftovers, cheese, and chilling Diet Coke.
I'm Jewish, but not overly religious, and have certainly never formally observed the Fourth Commandment, other than via the tradition of wearing white on Friday nights at summer camp, which never seemed to dovetail with the fact that Fridays were also the night for grape juice.
I'm constantly maxing out my Gmail account, and that is hard to do.
I'm a Canadian who can't vote, so far be it from me to speak for what Americans want. But, I am also a close observer of politics and media in this country, and the intersection of both - and how both intersect, and overlap with, each other.
As a matter of personal philosophy, I have generally said, 'Why not?' far more often than either 'Why?' or 'Not.'
I feel lucky every day. But I can also trace that luck back to decisions I have made. Frequently, those decisions have been to pay my own way to somewhere I want to be and something I want to do.
I've gone out on limbs, flung far, and Forrest-Gumped my way into the center of the action.
I didn't go to law school to become a lawyer, per se - let's just say I was leaning in to some strong suggestions from my parents - but my nebulous goals of someday becoming a writer were just that, nebulous.
I took a job at a white-shoe NYC law firm, with an office, business cards, and a fat starter paycheck.
I wrote small stories here and there, then bigger ones. Some were even written for money. I signed up for a writing class and snuck my first assignment on a yellow legal pad in a partner's office while he read through my memo.
I don't fault my former law firm for running their business like a business or expecting their new hire to be worth the obscene rate she was billed out at, but fun it was not.
Women as a raw demographic unit exercise incredible power across every element of American life.