Here’s a list with my own most favorite collages, which are often rather experimental, instead of my most popular (check the top 1-10 & 11-20).

Gallery | Shop | Tumblr | Flickr | Facebook

(via lettheredonein)

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You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Mary Oliver (via fuckyeahriotgrrrl)

(Source: glasscoffin, via dreamofredknifesky)

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A serious girl, when she finds someone who calms her spirit and quiets her busy thoughts, will love you so fiercely, it will defy even her own logic and reasoning.
(via glorious—headfuck)

(Source: namelessin314, via dreamofredknifesky)

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{Image credit: Anton Konashuk, whose ridiculously perfect mermaid series has been floating around Tumblr today.}

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Ideal Bookshelves, Jane Mount

(via megcorbs)

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The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.


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January 2014


Brave New Year. Trying it on for size. Twenty-nine in 2014.

The end of December was its usual swirly goodness. Christmas Eve, Christmas, my birthday (Lai Lai, drinks at Local Edition), Valentina’s birthday (wine tasting / limo madness / OMG SUCH GOOD TAPAS in Healdsburg), NYE (fancy family dinner, superhero-themed party in a comic book shop) and then: bye bye, 2013.

A list-maker by nature, I’ve got pages and pages of resolutions. The biggest: Finish one (writing) thing per month. Can be a big thing or a small thing. But every month, something gets wrapped up. (First drafts and final drafts both count — mid-level drafts do not.) Hopefully this means that I’ll end the year with a stack of finished things. At least twelve of them, to be not exact.

So what happened in January? New Year’s Day big fancy rib lunch with the family, then a movie marathon with my mama. Headed back to L.A. on the 2nd, and proceeded to get INORDINATELY ILL FOR, LIKE, EVER. The first half of January was eaten by the demon cold, which meant watching lots of Bob’s Burgers and 30 Rock, and spending a week curled up in bed with the kitty.

I went to Dr. Fowler’s 12th Night party, had my L.A. birthday party at One-Eyed Gypsy (SO FUN) (THANKS FOR COMING OUT, GUYS), went ice skating with Joe and Jenny, hiked with Liz, hiked multiple times with Taylor, met a new friend for coffee, had lunch with my favorite former student, went to dinner with one of my best friends and favorite humans only to find out that she is GROWING ANOTHER HUMAN INSIDE OF HER BODY, saw “Her” (<3 <3 <3), went to Spencer’s birthday party at Covell, had a great time at Cartel’s Dinosaurus at Angel City Brewing Co., had a great coffee/catch-up date with the wifey, and got to meet my parents for Mexican food out in Fillmore.

Main project: Finished the first draft, second draft, and final draft of The Pliant Girls, which started rehearsals this week. Am kind of obsessed with my Fugitive friends. Great cast, great energy, script that I can really stand behind. 

Been working with Joe on an Archer spec script, which I’m doing the final round of edits on tonight.

Layout has started on This Is Happening Now, which is super exciting. Should be wrapping up soon!

Got an unfinished scratch draft out on a short I’m working on set in the desert. Hoping to get a legit draft finished in the next few days.

Started work on a MUSICAL (SO INTO IT) with a composer friend. Pulling together an outline. Getting all geeky.

Had a meeting about editing/publishing a compilation of plays, which would be an exciting new venture. Giraffe Hunt Press is coming.

Finished this month:
The Pliant Girls, Archer spec (with Nameless Joe)

For February:
Scratch draft of Kiss the Bride.
Final draft of desert short.

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My Favorite Year

2013 was awesome. Just so I’ve got it written down somewhere, here’s (pretty much) what happened: 

General Highlights

  • Vacation Club trip to Big Bear, New York with Karyn for Benji and Madeline’s wedding, my first time as a bridesmaid in Valentina’s San Francisco wedding, traveling through Greece and Turkey for ten days with Elizabeth for Valentina’s Istanbul wedding, my mom’s birthday in Millbrae, John and Jackie’s wedding, Reynaldi’s visit (Santa Barbara, The Magic Castle, Downtown L.A.), general Halloween madness (Halloween Horror Nights, Haunted Hayride, fall party), St. Patrick’s Day at Joxer Daly’s, Back to the Future at Cinespia, countless dinners and drinks and hikes and coffee dates, and burrowing in the bay area for two months at the end of the year for some major family quality time.


The Fire Room

  • Performed at El Cid as part of the Cartel Sound/Stage series and by Fugitive Theater for the Hollywood Fringe Festival. You can listen to the radio version here, check out selected reviews here, or browse some video/photos here.


  • Performed as part of the Inkwell Theater Development LAB, and recipient of the Max K. Lerner Fellowship.


  • Wrote and sold my first feature-length screenplay to Senate Productions. It’s a romantic comedy set in Brazil, and was THE MOST FUN TO WRITE EVER.

The Gypsy Machine

  • Performed as part of Cartel’s Haunted Living Room Tour. Highlights included shows at Jim Morrison’s old Laurel Canyon mansion, Charlie Chaplain’s West Hollywood house, and the (awesome) closing show at the mad scientist’s lair where Joss Whedon filmed Dr. Horrible’s Sing-a-Long Blog.

Third Bestie Productions

  • Wrote two pilots (Necromancers, Beautiful Misteak) and a spec script with Joe Kausch. Shot the first five minutes of Necromancers for ITVF.


  • Naissance Press published Twenty-Six, a chapbook of poems and (VERY SHORT) fiction. Buy your copy here!

Family Stories

  • Spent eight+ hours interviewing my grandma, ended up with a fifty-page book of stories that I had printed up for presents. On Christmas, she read the whole thing out loud, unprompted, without stopping (and would adorably speed up as she transitioned to each new chapter so no one would try and stop her). Not a “professional” writing achievement, but one of the more personally meaningful projects I’ve ever worked on.

Miscellaneous Shenanigans

  • Contributed a scene to the Miss Julie Dream Project for Fell Swoop’s inaugural HFF production, got hired to help out with the script for a zombie feature, served as Head Writer for BrevityTV, wrote two short films, participated in a 48-hour film festival, was commissioned to write a children’s “chapter book” (SO MUCH FUN), and finished edits for This Is Happening Now, which will be published through Montag Press in 2014 (link to cover art here).

Spent yesterday making lists (FAVORITE ACTIVITY) and planning for the new year. Hoping for more writing, more productions, more shoots, and more upward movement.

2013, you were a blast and a blessing, and it is an honor and a privilege to put you to bed.

2014, I’m ready for ya.

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Meghan’s Last Night in Town

1. Los Angeles I am your champion and I need a vacation. See you in the new year, you dark fiend.

I’m gonna go go go in the morning. Six weeks in the Bay Area. The plan is: come back lighter. Get those words off my chest get that skin off my bones. We write and we walk and we watch television with my mother. End of discussion.

2. Today was the Most Pleasant. Coffee date with a guy who I’ve been out with five out of the eight days we’ve known each other. Sometimes you hear yourself telling the same old stories, other times it’s all new. Did some work then went to happy hour at Tropicalia with Karyn, taught my class, then walked over to Village Tavern for a beer with Taylor. Now, packing and cleaning (and packing) (and cleaning) (…and packing).

3. Still NaNoWriMoing. By the end of the year: first 50,000 words of The Fire Room novel. First draft of Kiss the Bride (screenplay). Second draft of Trochilidae (screenplay). First draft of the CURRENTLY UNTITLED FUGITIVE THEATER PROJECT. Polish all the “final drafts” I’ve got laying around. This is the time to write my guts out. Focus pocus. Six weeks until I’m 29 (OMG WHAT SHUT UP GRAHHHHH) and it’s 2014 (DITTO ON THE SHUTTING UP) and I gotta have something bigger to show for it.

4. Learning too many things all the time. It’s gonna pay off but SERIOUSLY, YOU GUYS, SOMETIMES IT’S JUST TOO MUCH.

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Tonight’s thoughts:

1. I’m five days into NaNoWriMo and I think I’m a convert. You know what you can do with a novel? Whatever the fuck you want. I’LL TAKE ALL THE LOCATIONS FOR 500, ALEX. Plus, you get to, like, ROLL AROUND IN PEOPLE’S THOUGHTS and the sex scenes can get weirder and you don’t have to convulse every time a line isn’t word-perfect because the lines will always be word-perfect owing to the fact that you’re printing them out just the way you want them on pieces of paper and handing them directly to your audience.

2. Big self-improvement kick. Trying to be better. Flailing and failing as always. Being a human is harder than it should be, and every day is a lesson in compassion because for the most part we’re all just walking around trying to fuck up as little as possible. Deliberately soften those hard feelings: spend some time out in the sun.

3. The clean house is clean again. How do you real adults do it? How are you not cleaning, like, all the time? I can wreck a room faster than anyone I know, and am having a hard time keeping up with myself. By the time I’m done gingerly making dirty dishes non-dirty, I’ve already destroyed the bedroom looking for a pair of shoes that turned out to be in my car. And yet: I stay resilient. My habitat will remain unfucked. COMMITTED.

4. I’ve been getting by with a massive amount of help from my friends, lately. The last 24-hours alone involved a beer-fueled secret meeting, a well-timed lock-out sleepover, a long windy hike, tea and sympathy at my favorite French bistro. Tied down in the best way. No drift November.

5. Day-jobbing so very little til the end of the year. Gotta make it worth it. Does anyone want to sublet my place in December? It’s a tiny angel city dream. Skylights and a backyard and a few rooms of your own. Promise not to steal my stuff and I’ll give you a real nice deal on the whole kit and caboodle (not the kitten caboodle, which is what I thought it was when I was a teenager) (WHICH, INCIDENTALLY, WOULD BE WAY BETTER THAN A KIT AND CABOODLE AMIRITE?)

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My mama came to town and it was perfect. We took a sewing class at Mood and had fancy dinner at La Boheme and drove out to Laurel Canyon to see The Gypsy Machine at Jim Morrison’s old house. We drove out to Topanga and had brunch at Inn of the Seventh Ray and walked Santa Monica Pier and spent the afternoon at Venice Beach. We went for a long walk and made meatball sandwiches and went shopping and saw Trochilidae with a big gooey group of my friends. Perfect little trip. Mama’s girl forever. <3


Trochilidae opened and closed and I just could not be more grateful. That play is a favorite, and it was such a delight to get to make it better and better. That second weekend just destroyed me. Oversold, all my people, everybody laughing, sick silence at just the right moments. Delicious.


The Gypsy Machine opened and is still running and you should totally go see it. It’s creepy and unique and brilliantly executed and I feel generally full of gooey mushy feelings about how the whole thing is going. Perfect wacky Halloween fare. You’ll have fun. Promise promise.


Lots of projects finishing up. Today is my last day on the screenplay. I have to stop picking at it and just press send. Met up with an amazing photographer last night at midnight at the Culver Ice Arena for a location scout for a short we’re collaborating on. Starting the pull together for Kiss the Bride and the Trochilidae screenplay. Just writing it all out, over and over and over again always.

Looking for new things and finishing the old things. My house is clean clean clean and it’s gonna stay that way. Going to Target today, sticking close to home, reading and recharging and reevaluating. Time to rest rest rest.

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‘the song remains the same’!it’s july and there’s a bigger update on the way.


‘the song remains the same’!
it’s july and there’s a bigger update on the way.

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Consider that you can see less than 1% of the electromagnetic spectrum and hear less than 1% of the acoustic spectrum. As you read this, you are traveling at 220 km/sec across the galaxy. 90% of the cells in your body carry their own microbial DNA and are not “you.” The atoms in your body are 99.9999999999999999% empty space and none of them are the ones you were born with, but they all originated in the belly of a star. Human beings have 46 chromosomes, 2 less than the common potato.

The existence of the rainbow depends on the conical photoreceptors in your eyes; to animals without cones, the rainbow does not exist. So you don’t just look at a rainbow, you create it. This is pretty amazing, especially considering that all the beautiful colors you see represent less than 1% of the electromagnetic spectrum.

NASA Lunar Science Institute, We Originated in the Belly of a Star (2012)

(Source: thinksquad, via lettheredonein)

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we’ve come too far to give up who we are


Today has hijacked itself with a familiar restlessness. These are the days right before the story comes. Anne Lamott says: Maintain the Prone. Read. Write. Clean. Try not to be upright for too long. I disagree: walking helps.

I’m working on the script for the Currently Untitled cARTel Living Room Tour and I haven’t had that night where it clicks yet. But the storm is coming. Just biding my time. Reading reading reading and turning down drinks to sit in front of the fan in my short shorts. I’ve got a few more hours before the good stuff gets here. Now there’s nothing to do but be patient.



Istanbul and Greece. How do you write it down? You can’t come close. It was picturesque and diabolical. Those winding streets! Who knew the world had shapes like that? Circles and spirals and domes. Rooftop restaurants and floating heart lanterns and the call to prayer five times a day and hustler taxi drivers and a little boy poking a cat with a stick. We saw the best belly-dancer in Turkey and Hagia Sofia and the Blue Mosque and Topkapi Palace and the Cisterns and the Mosque of Suleimon the Magnificent and took a cruise on the Bosphorus and wandered through Moda buying cheap rings and one time Elizabeth and I had dinner with a cat. 

And oh, the Turkish bath. Hamam. Roll me around on your three hundred year old marble, wash me scrub me dry me knead me wash my hair. Hold my hand and lead me like a little child. I have a new favorite thing.

The future has an ancient heart, and this was the ancient part. All travel slices you, but this trip cut deep. The Grotto of the Apocalypse and the world’s worst cruise entertainment and that rocky boat, pitching back and forth, making its way out to sea. 


The Fire Room is happening and sometimes it’s just too much, like my skull is made of glass and everyone can peer inside and watch my weird lonely thoughts hugging each other wearing masks that make them look like actors I knew in college.

But most of the time it’s pretty kick-ass. 

If I had to list the top 10 happiest moments of my life, I’m pretty sure at least half of them would involve me freaking out in the back of a black box theater. It gets easier every time but it’s never that easy. Mortification and abject shame with a marbled streak of awe that occasionally—and I mean occasionally—passes into a brief moment of unadulterated ecstasy. There it is! Recognition. It’s not mine anymore, it ran away without me it left me behind, but now, here, in front of everyone, at the last possible second, it’s turning its head and looking back! 

We make eye contact and I think: I wrote that.

For someone who always feels just a little bit on the outside. For someone who never quite fits right. For that girl? To feel a whole room wrap around her own big feelings, even just for a second? Now that. That is something. That is something great. That is just the greatest thing.


In other news: 

My mother sold $100 worth of my little chapbooks. That’s $50 profit, in a ziplock bag of ruffled 10s. She made a sign: Meg’s Book of Poems (and Stories). I’m out on the town with $20 in my pocket. I’m gonna go sit somewhere nice, I’m gonna eat four books worth of dinner. And it is going to taste good


Next month will mark the first time that my rent is entirely paid by writing. I moved words around on paper and it put a roof over my head. A girl could get used to this. 


I’ve been on my own here for two years this week. Does it feel like it? I can’t be sure. 

I do know that I have a certain fondness for this time of year. All of the flowers in my neighborhood. Just the walk to the coffee shop kills me. Everything is red and purple and orange and perfect and all the craftsmen houses and thank God I escaped North Hollywood, thank God for my skylights, my backyard, for mine-all-mine for those long walks that school’s out feeling shining through the ceiling every morning. 

This is the first year I’m not teaching and good lord summer feels better when it doesn’t start at 6am. I haven’t even been setting an alarm. I just kick my feet til I find the cat and pick up my book. Check the time once I’ve gotten tired of The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao (which, sometimes, takes awhile). 

If summer one was agony and sandwiches and summer two was Psyche Approaches, summer three is release. Nose to a beautiful grindstone. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Living Room Tour and Brazil Screenplay and Kiss the Bride and finally getting this TV pilot done with Joe. Scoop and the Birdcage Play when I’m done. I’d like to start hiking again, but a little extra meat on my bones is the last thing on my mind. I surrender: I am a curved girl. 

I’ve been fighting my own nature lately and today was a reminder to just let myself be. Write your heart out. Don’t apologize. Celebrate when you can. 

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Jacaranda, Jacaranda, Jacaranda

It seems to happen overnight. Every year is like this, I leave town and come back to a purple world. Jacaranda, jacaranda, jacaranda. Flowers on my street flowers on my car flowers in my drink flowers in my hair. Flowers landing on my clothes. Flower phone. Flower candle. Flower tortillas. All of it. Too bright too much too soon too big. So much color, so much light. My heart flowers. It’s the best time to be an Angelino, these early days. Summer wrecks us soon enough, but spring? Spring puts its hand on our legs and inches closer. June gloom seems like an old wives’ tale. Is there such a thing as winter? Nobody knows. 

I bought a birdcage today. My mother sold half my inventory of chapbooks, full price. I had coffee with Merce and Karyn at Alcove. Slammed out a beat sheet at the library. Working lunch with Rachel and Jim, pitching pitching pitching wait for the right pitch, knock it out of the park. Starting to get excited to write write write all summer long. Work. Culver City for business/gossip with Claudia, our lovely Liz joining for dinner at Kay and Dave’s. Istanbul in a week. My body flies over the ocean. Old and new and borrowed and blue.

Over the weekend, someone asked me why I love LA: This is why. My people my places. Dreamertown. Hope City. Gimme gimme gimme. Brass rings dangle in the distance. My heart flowers, my heart flowers, my heart flowers. 


Spent the weekend in San Francisco for my childhood best friend’s wedding. Scrubs grew up with the best of ‘em. I want to write about it, but I just can’t even. Sometimes even words fail. No one has ever been more beautiful. Promise. Everybody fussing. Hair nails eyelashes. Yes. 

To see someone who was once solely yours become everyone’s. To recall your feverish devotion. To feel every piece joyous. To feel every piece opened. To celebrate. I am the sappiest, I am the silly one. But.

The poem came out right and it meant a lot to get to give it to them. Sometimes, when all else fails, words don’t.


The rest of the trip: Beautiful. The quilting museum with the mama. Wild, beautiful things. Right up my alley. A baptismal pelt, complete with human hair-fur. Skeletons in love. “There is a savagery.”

Day trip to San Jose for a museum and rose garden and shopping and lunch. The Great Gasby. A BBQ the day after the wedding, all the centerpieces on our table, my hair still twisted into shapes. My long-awaited typewriter purse. 

Lots of work and writing. There’s never enough time. “This is the price that we pay.” Too many good things.


No grand conclusions today. No big plan tying it all together. Busy in the happiest way. Overwhelmed. Joyous. These six months have been a blessing. I’d missed this. Here we are. 

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