Jennifer Treacy is a failure. The last time she had any measure of writing success was when she wrote a story about a thunderstorm. Her father was impressed. “You know, most eight-year-olds don’t do that. They don’t spontaneously write stories about weather events.” Her next serious writing task was at the age of nineteen—a novel about the death of her parents titled The Fog that Ate Robin Donnelly’s Mind. The novel showed promise, but the author understood it to be that crappy novel you have to write before you learn to write a good one—which isn’t fair—it was pretty decent writing. Even so, its fundamental value was cheap therapy for the author. Post parental-deaths, Treacy became a much better writer. She took classes at The New School and Harvard and was always the favorite of the professors, yet that couldn’t get her published. Her Harvard Prof, author Mary Sullivan, assured her that she would rise above the slush piles but so far that hasn’t happened. Treacy fell in love with actress Vera Farmiga and wrote two screenplays meant for her. These won quite a few awards which stroked her ego and made money for the film festivals that sponsored the contests. Then she turned her attention to a high school friend (who is in prison for life for a crime she did not commit—I’m actually not kidding here) and adapted her novella into the screenplay Helen Hires a Hitman. Her summer project is https://www.clumsyspider.org/ a site that accepts middle grade through new adult submissions anonymously as a weapon against bias. Sometimes she uses adverbs, and rarely parentheses, but she genuinely worships the em dash. Currently she teaches writing to eighth graders via the wonders of online schooling.