Meet Guest Author Laura A. Lord

 Laura A. Lord

My name is Laura A. Lord. I’m the author of numerous collections of vignettes and poetry and one awesome children’s book about a T-Rex screwing up my entire day. It’s absolutely a true story.



I graduated with an AA in Liberal Arts, with an emphasis in Literature, and then spent a number of years as a writing tutor at my local college. Then I got married for a second time and the man domesticated me. It’s been quite tragic. In some effort to find something more productive than laundry to do all day, I started my blog over at History of a Woman, and began writing in earnest. I am also a contributing writer for Tipsy Lit.

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My collections focus heavily on women’s issues in today’s society:

IGEDSC DIGITAL CAMERA’m the liberal, pro-choice, pro-gay marriage, secular, outspoken feminist you were warned about. I haven’t traveled the world. In fact, I’ve never even been on an airplane. My upbringing has been a sheltered view in a static, rural town. But I’ve lived enough lives for twelve people. I’ve gone through stages of names, tearing them off like a badge on my shirt and replacing them just as easily. I’ve got battle scars. I didn’t wage war against domestic abuse. My fight or flight kicked in and I ran. I hid, cowering and broken, and spent years trying to get the needle threaded, to stitch the holes in the patchwork quilt of my self-esteem. I never fought the demons of drug abuse and alcoholism. I spent weeks on my sofa, weak and thin, while my mother made me grilled cheese sandwiches and I tried to figure out if I wanted to live or get high. I survived my teenage years, not by resilience, but by pure luck that my attempts to end it were never fruitful. I didn’t learn to love me until every man I’d chosen had managed to redefine “love” as some twisted, ugly thing. Loving myself was never pretty. I wasn’t the hero in my story, I was the human. And this human is writing that story and she’s got a hell of a lot to say.


My newest collection, Perjury is the child of yet another loss in the family and being labeled a “habitual liar”. I grew up in a home with a Reverend for a grandfather. I was in church every Sunday…and Wednesday…and for every camp offered throughout the summer. This wasn’t bible thumping; this was a no-holds-barred cage match between a cat and the holy baptismal waters. There was a silent mantra in my family that was to be accepted: Thou shalt not speak of it. The “it” being anything that could possibly make anyone look at them with a wonky eye.

wuwI grew up is small town. Everyone knew my business. When I published Wake Up a Woman, spilling the stories about a particularly rough and unpleasant time in my life, I became known as the “habitual liar”. I supposed it was easier to hold ones head up when they said, “Oh, she’s lying,”, than it would be to admit that any of that could have been true.

I sat down for months and wrote, using my words once again to work through the death of my husband’s grandmother and, consequentially, work through my issues with faith and lies. I figured that if I was going to be the liar in the family, I might as well own it.

You can find me – this liar – author, in all these wonderful places!

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