A low-cal social media diet.

social media image
Every once in a while I take my life’s pulse.

Simply put, I scan for areas of improvement and start working on the better version of me.

(Blame Oprah.)

I’ve recently found one such area that I’m tweaking (twerking? hahaha…no), and I’m already feeling oodles better: my social media life.

My teeth are rotting. Help.

I hate Facebook and Instagram. There, I said it. And I know, I know, you’re all like, “But Ericka, you’re a social media maven with slightly decent hair and a Romanesque nose that just won’t quit.” And yeah, maybe the old me was. But now?

I’m tired. I just want to live. I want to stop comparing my life to others’. I want to stop inwardly seething at blatant political posts and getting all frazzled, not because somebody I know has a particular political mindset, but because they’d much rather exercise their right to incessantly chatter into an online void instead of realizing how it might make others feel. I’m also tired of taking photos of my sandwiches.

This me, me, me generation is starting to rot my teeth, you guys. And frankly, my soul.

And I don’t want to add to it.

Let’s start a different conversation.

When it boils down to it, I think blogging gives me the freedom to fully express what’s dancing between the sheets of my brain. Instagram and Facebook are just tiny nuggets of truth, and half the time, they’re not even that truthful.

Do you know how many times it takes me to snap a selfie? 72. And that doesn’t even include choosing a filter.

Here’s my truth: my skin isn’t always clear, sometimes I’m a little hungover, I snap at my kid, I snap at my husband, I love them more than my heart can take, I fail God like I’m Judas Iscariot’s twin sister Jane, and I don’t always shave my legs.

But I’m still loved and accepted and don’t need to worry about mindless swiping, mindless likes to make me whole.

Know thyself.

If you’re eyeing my home page right now, you’ll see links to LinkedIn, Twitter, and Pinterest. For me, these don’t count. I’m never on them and if I do happen to take a stroll down Pinterest lane, I’m probably looking up 5 million ways aloe is going to turn me into Jennifer Lopez (I’ll keep you posted).

You gotta know what’s working and what’s hacking at your inner peace with a chainsaw.

And for me? Those channels barely tickle.

Challenge time.

So if you want to chat with me, human being to human being, I invite you to check out this page and send me your inner thoughts. I’d like to get to know you while having absolutely no clue what your lunch looks like.

(Oprah would be proud.)

Oh and one more thing. Which social media channel do you need to give the ax to?


He Still Won’t Stop Talking

matt clay
This shirt is the representation of the things his mouth says. Just horrible.

Long, long ago in a village far, far away where the local inhabitants wore nothing but yoga pants and prank called their former algebra teacher who once said “math is necessary,” there was a writer named Ericka who punished her husband for saying that she “maybe shouldn’t drive on the sidewalks” and “probably should wear clothes to church” by posting all the other horrifying things he said on the Internet.

You can find those horrifying things here and here.

You’d think said husband would “maybe stop talking, please, seriously, Matt, stop talking, and could you hold this cat while I get more Cheetos?  Don’t worry about where I got the glitter!  Mr. Cattypants likes it!!” but alas, he has not.

Here’s proof:

  • “I chiseled a baby spoon out of wood when I was six months old.”
  • “I am rich in puppy.”
  • “I should suspend your vent privileges.”
  • “I’m about to get wild, and I’m all like, ‘Matt, stop.  That’s too fucking wild.'”
  • “I just hurt my neck with my exaggerated head and eye movements.”
  • “I choose grammar over everyone.”
  • “After this, can you remind me to eat an egg roll and check the mail?”
  • “You have a wonderful hairline.”
  • “I’d risk my life to build a treehouse.”
  • “You know what’s funny?  You’re not a police officer, and you don’t know the definition of ‘cop sexy.'”
  • “A Lincoln Town Car limousine?  Those were simpler times.”
  • “Dennis Quaid is still wide smiling his way around America.”
  • Me: What’s the name of the Ryan Phillippe movie you like?  Matt: Which one?”
  • “I’m sorry, it’s just that I find water’s affinity for itself in glasses interesting.”
  • (His take on papaya) “Nasty.  Disgusting.  I’m going to put it down your shirt.”

Maybe one day he’ll grow up and be a mature adult like me.


Oh God.  Our poor child.

How to Parent a Child

dog in a sombrero
See, Mr. McFluffycakes? This is how you pull of a sombrero you non-sombrero wearing son-of-a-bitch!!

Listen, I know I’m really great at a lot of things like wearing shirts and making my neighbor’s dog feel inferior because he can’t walk on two feet like me, a very smart human being (You hear that, Mr. McFluffycakes?  Huh?  You hear that?  I’m the smart one you sickeningly adorable son of a bitch!), but what I’m really great at is parenting.

Parenting is by far the best thing I’ve ever done because 1) I’ve never lost my child.

So there’s that.

But there’s also the fact that she’s developing into a very not scary person proven by the hilarious non-scary things she says.  Usually in public:

  • “Let’s pretend we’re all at a wedding and don’t know each other. Hi! I’m Tilly, I’m six, and I live alone.”
  • Me: How was the Humane Society presentation at school?  Ava: Well, the dog didn’t have any eyes and the cat died so they brought us a bag of fur to pet.
  • “It smells like eyeballs and helicopters in here.”
  • Ava: Maybe my new friend can be my boyfriend.  Me: Aren’t you a little young to have a boyfriend?  Ava: Don’t judge me!!
  • Me: Ava, guess what! We sold the house!  Ava: I know. I made a few emails on my iPad so you’re welcome.
  • Me: What are you doing?  Ava: Watching a video about Dropbox. It’s relaxing.
  • Me: Why is it you never listen?  Ava (with wide “innocent” eyes): Well, because I’m a little girl and little girls just don’t know how to listen.
  • Me: How did gym camp go?  Ava (laughing): Great! Told some guy I was twenty-five!
  • Me: It’s time to take your bath.  Ava: Okay, give me just one second.  Me: Nope, it’s time now.   Ava (in her best first grade teacher tone): Remember when we talked about patience?
  • “I’m in charge of the world.”
  • Ava: What are these?  Me: Onions.   Ava: Oh, I’m so sorry, but my doctor says I can’t have these.
  • Ava: Want to play Oprah and Gayle?  Me: Sure.  Ava: I’m Oprah.  Me: Okay, hi Oprah.  Ava: Get out of my office Gayle!!
  • Me: Why are you acting like a crazy person?  Ava: Because Jesus made me this way!!!

See?  Parenting isn’t hard.  You just have to be willing to dress up like the best friend of a multi-billionaire and be screamed at from time to time.

And in the end, just realize Jesus made them that way, so really, it’s all his fault.

New blog, folks.

Ericka Clay
Look at how cute I am!! Look with your eyes!!!!!!

So I’m moving on. I’m no longer blogging at Tipsy Lit since we’ve gone hardcore lit mag (and check it out if you haven’t.  We’re always looking for amazing submissions).

If you want in on my new venture, then please join me at The Wounded Deer Leaps on Tumblr.  It’s my newest writing project that’s comprised of different series based on my personal life.

The first one?  The Gym.  Because sweat inspires me.

Also, how great do I look in that sweater?  Super great.

My Writing Process – Blog Tour

published author
Signed my book contract over the weekend for my novel Unkept. What what!

I was part of a blog tour once back in the day when I had a blog called “Alabaster Cow,” and I mentioned how I peed on a street in Brooklyn in the middle of a snow storm once and they never asked me back.  So imagine how amazingly grateful I am that Dawn from Tales from the Motherland asked me to get in involved with a blog tour that delves deeper into my writing process.  And this time I won’t even mention urine.


My Writing Process

  • What am I working on?  Right now I’m working on a novel called White Smoke that’s forcing me to come face-to-face with my Arkansas roots.  And I appreciate that.  For a long time I hated Arkansas.  There’s a lot not to like in that state: racism, backward thinking, in-your-face religious conformity.  But there’s also a lot to love, and writing this book is proof for me that you are where you come from, and instead of denying it, hating it, hiding it, maybe you can bring to light the painful things to instill a sense of hope.

Anyways, the book’s about a teenage glue addict named Wren that starts peddling drugs for her ex-boyfriend’s brother so that she can get out of  her hometown,White Smoke.  Her story is closely woven with her father’s (Mitch) who has a difficult time dealing with his roles as a father and husband, not to mention the tenuous grasp he has on his secret identity as a homosexual.

Told through the eyes of father and daughter in two very different stages of their lives, White Smoke captures the love and loss that ensues when two people try to strengthen their connection with each other, worlds and time apart.

Or something.  I’m still working on the “something”…

  • How does my work differ from others of its genre?  Hmm…well, I’m not sure I’ve read a book about a teenage glue addict and her homosexual father who live in a small Arkansas town.  So…that?
  • Why do I write what I do?  I write what I do because I’m forced to.  You know that divine intervention thing where the gospel writers were overcome with the power of the Holy Spirit and everything they wrote was inspired by God?  Well, writing for me is kind of liked that, but instead of the Holy Spirit, I’m filled with caffeine.  I’m also pretty sure I black out a little.  But really, what I’m trying to say is that I write what I do because I’m compelled to.  Something clicks on inside my head and my heart and I get this feeling that tells me, “Yep, this is it.”
  • How does your writing process work?  I wake up, take my daughter to school, make breakfast, clean up my daughter’s room that looks like the victim of a massive tornado and then I sit down with a cup of matcha green tea and try to invoke the pain that comes from twenty-nine years of living.  Is there any other way?

Well look at that!  Not one urine mention.  I think this deserves a good emotional pain invoking.  Let me just get my tissues…

Psst….I just set up my EC Readers group for all you lovely people who would like to help me promote my new novel!  Free perks?  Who doesn’t love that??

Passing on blog tour torch…

These three lovely ladies will be hosting the blog tour on their own blogs on March 31st so be sure to stop by!

Ashley Sapp

AshleyAshley is a writer and wannabe editor from South Carolina. She is a language and literature enthusiast as well as an activist to end violence against women. Her blog caters to the creative side of her brain, and she can also be found on Twitter or Facebook.

Jessica Sita


Jessica Sita is a full-time writer living in Oklahoma with her husband and two dogs. Her book of poetry, Outcry, is going to be self-published this spring. You can find her at her blog: Watchful Creature.

Tilley Creary

TIlley A longtime lover of literature Tilley has always wanted to write the Great Canadian Novel, or, you know, a steamy sci-fi romance adventure drama, whichever comes first. At any rate, she’s just learning the ropes for writing fiction and his hoping that someday writing a killer birthday wish in a greeting card will be the highlight of her writing career.  Find out more about Tilley at Preshusme.com.