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An open letter to civil servants everywhere (but especially in America)

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Personal Essays

I’m almost happy in Hanoi again… and here’s why

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Latest posts

My anxiety about coronavirus (and it’s not what you think)

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This is the 10th essay in the #26essays2017 challenge that I’ve set for myself this year. I’m doing this because I’m the first to admit I’ve become a lazy writer: allowing guest posts and series and cross-posting to make up the bulk of content on The Diane Lee Project across 2016. The brave, fearless writing that readers admired and respected me for has all but disappeared. This year—2017—will be different. I’m reclaiming my voice—my write like a motherfucker voice!  By Western standards, I am not a beauty. My face does not have those fine features nor the synchronicity that is apparently pleasing to the eye.

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This is the 9th essay in the #26essays2017 challenge that I’ve set for myself this year. I’m doing this because I’m the first to admit I’ve become a lazy writer: allowing guest posts and series and cross-posting to make up the bulk of content on The Diane Lee Project across 2016. The brave, fearless writing that readers admired and respected me for has all but disappeared. This year—2017—will be different. I’m reclaiming my voice—my write like a motherfucker voice!  I have never experienced anything like this in my life. Silenced. Being with two expat men—one in particular—who refused to let me speak. Who wanted to shut

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This is the 8th essay in the #26essays2017 challenge that I’ve set for myself this year. I’m doing this because I’m the first to admit I’ve become a lazy writer: allowing guest posts and series and cross-posting to make up the bulk of content on The Diane Lee Project across 2016. The brave, fearless writing that readers admired and respected me for has all but disappeared. This year—2017—will be different. I’m reclaiming my voice—my write like a motherfucker voice!  This weekend, here in Hanoi, I voided an awful sexy times encounter with a Frenchman (aka That French Fucker) that happened at the beginning of 2016. That

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This is the 7th essay in the #26essays2017 challenge that I’ve set for myself this year. I’m doing this because I’m the first to admit I’ve become a lazy writer: allowing guest posts and series and cross-posting to make up the bulk of content on The Diane Lee Project across 2016. The brave, fearless writing that readers admired and respected me for has all but disappeared. This year—2017—will be different. I’m reclaiming my voice—my write like a motherfucker voice!  Opportunity (noun) – a set of circumstances that makes it possible to do anything. In Australian workplaces, there exists a strange, mythological beast. This beast is

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This is the 6th essay in the #26essays2017 challenge that I’ve set for myself this year. I’m doing this because I’m the first to admit I’ve become a lazy writer: allowing guest posts and series and cross-posting to make up the bulk of content on The Diane Lee Project across 2016. The brave, fearless writing that readers admired and respected me for has all but disappeared. This year—2017—will be different. I’m reclaiming my voice—my write like a motherfucker voice!  Dying. Dead. Buried. Everything about him that I respected, admired, enjoyed. Gone. Killed by a single gesture that extinguished all others that preceded it. The way he

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This is the 5th essay in the #26essays2017 challenge that I’ve set for myself this year. I’m doing this because I’m the first to admit I’ve become a lazy writer: allowing guest posts and series and cross-posting to make up the bulk of content on The Diane Lee Project across 2016. The brave, fearless writing that readers admired and respected me for has all but disappeared. This year—2017—will be different. I’m reclaiming my voice—my write like a motherfucker voice!   Four weeks. Give or take a day or two. That’s how long it took. Takes. For my crush to run its course. But my crush didn’t just

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This is the 3rd essay in the #26essays2017 challenge that I’ve set for myself this year. I’m doing this because I’m the first to admit I’ve become a lazy writer: allowing guest posts and series and cross-posting to make up the bulk of content on The Diane Lee Project across 2016. The brave, fearless writing that readers admired and respected me for has all but disappeared. This year—2017—will be different. I’m reclaiming my voice—my write like a motherfucker voice!  Oh, God. Really? Another crush? Why? Can’t I be done with this shit already? I’m 53 years old, and I’ve been single for 10 years. Of

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This is the 2nd essay in the #26essays2017 challenge that I’ve set for myself this year. I’m doing this because I’m the first to admit I’ve become a lazy writer: allowing guest posts and series and cross-posting to make up the bulk of content on The Diane Lee Project across 2016. The brave, fearless writing that readers admired and respected me for has all but disappeared. This year—2017—will be different. I’m reclaiming my voice—my write like a motherfucker voice!  “Be the change you want to see in the world.” “Somewhere inside all of us is the power to change the world.” “If you think you

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This is the first essay in the #26essays2017 challenge that I’ve set for myself this year. I’ll be writing one personal essay a week: 26 in total. And I’m doing this because I’m the first to admit I’ve become a lazy writer: allowing guest posts and series and cross-posting to make up the bulk of content on The Diane Lee Project across 2016. The brave, fearless writing that readers admired and respected me for has all but disappeared. This year—2017—will be different. I’m reclaiming my voice—my write like a motherfucker voice—and I’m starting with this essay about pride in aforementioned voice even though many would consider

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In my last post waaaaaaaay back at the beginning of November, I mentioned that I would be in Vietnam for at least three months, volunteering at KOTO, a social enterprises that trains poor and disadvantaged youth in hospitality. My reasons for being here have been well documented, but for those of you who want the Reader’s Digest version, it goes something like this: I visited Vietnam in 2010, and as part of the tour I was on, we ate lunch at KOTO. I was so impressed, that I vowed to come back one day and volunteer. That day is now. I

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This post was originally posted on WFA.Life. The Freedom Road series documents my transition to a more freelance, less corporate working life. It’s been a while since my last post. Two months, in fact. (Sorry, Andy.) But I haven’t resting on my laurels, licking my wounds, thinking woe is me. I’ve been taking action, and making decisions, and damn it feels good. Two months ago, I applied to volunteer at KOTO in Hanoi, Vietnam. Within a week, I had my response. They wanted me. To say it was one of the happiest pieces of news I’d received in a long time

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When I started The Secret Lives of Writers series, I was approached by Alex Kourvo from Writing Slices (check the comments at the bottom of this post) to see if I’d submit it for a book review. Of course, I was overjoyed that someone was keen to review it, and I submitted it when it was ready—with very little thought, I might add! A month or so later, I was duly advised by Alex that her review of The Secret Lives of Writers would be negative. She gave me the option of not going ahead with the review (she said she had a soft

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