Hello there and welcome to my blog/website! My name is Jessica Jolynne Farkas but most people just call me Jess or Jo. I’m a pretty strange chick. Coincidentally, that’s another nickname of mine–Strange Chick–one my grandfather coined for me as a kid and has called me ever since. Before you go off thinking my grandpa is some kind of jerk, let me just assure you that he most definitely is not. He’s actually my most favorite human. While he may have been the first to point out my strangeness, he was also the first to appreciate it. “Don’t you break her spirit!” he would scold my poor mom after she’d try to convince me not to leave the house in two different colored socks and a single glove, a trend I tried to promote throughout the better part of first grade.
I guess this is the portion of the bio page where most people would include a recent headshot. I don’t have one, so here’s an iPhone pic of me at Jimmy John’s the other day:
There are crumbs on my face, but you get the idea. That’s me…what I look like and whatnot. My bangs are tucked behind my hat, but it’s probably important you know that I have bangs. My bangs are kind of like my trademark or whatever. People who don’t know me as Jess or Jo (or Strange Chick) will often just refer to me as “the chick with the bangs.”
Anyway, I am a writer of sorts. I say of sorts because chances are you’ve never heard of me or read anything I’ve written. I’m not like Hunter S. Thompson or Stephen King or that 50 Shades of Gray gal. But that’s okay. I don’t need to be super famous or anything like that; I just need to write.
The truth is I have been writing since before I can even remember, though that super cliché statement that I’ve been writing since before I can even remember is likely not great evidence of such. But seriously, I have been writing for a really long time. See below for some photographic proof:
It’s hard to pinpoint the exact age at which I decided I wanted to become a writer, mostly because my memory is worse than that Dory fish’s from Finding Nemo. However, I am certain of this: it was the first time I read National Geographic magazine. I want to say 7 or 8ish. Not trying to be a snob or anything, but I always read at a really high reading level. Reading and writing, those were my things. Everything else I sucked at. Especially math. I still suck at math.
Growing up I loved writing poetry, comic strips, and short stories. I always created characters as eccentric as myself, then threw them into foreign lands and bizarre situations to see how they would react. In third grade or something, a teacher of mine wrote “Jessica was born to be a writer!” on one of my short story assignments. If you don’t believe me, I can ask my mom to dig it up. She seriously saves all that crap.
In high school I journaled every day, mostly about how difficult my life was (it wasn’t) and how my tattoos, piercings, and temporary pink hair dye made me unique (they didn’t). While I can look back now and joke that my problems were minuscule, writing saved me from a time when they seemed helplessly catastrophic.
In college I decided to major in Journalism and minor in Cultural Anthropology because that seemed like a winning combo for a wannabe Nat Geo writer. I did all that extracurricular business since I figured it would look great on my résumé. I got decent grades, studied abroad in West Africa, and even had a few articles published outside of the campus newspaper. Here’s one. Essentially, I took all the steps necessary to achieve my ultimate goal.
Yet here I am, sneaking up on my 30th year of life, still waiting on that phone call from Nat Geo. In my head it goes something like this: “Good afternoon, Ms. Farkas. This is ____________ from National Geographic. I was just wondering if we could pay you buttloads of money to travel around the world and write about your adventures for us.” Then I’m like, “Sure, just let me put in my two weeks at this bartending job I’ve been working since I graduated college with a degree in Journalism and Cultural Anthropology” and then I go on to win a Pulitzer or something.
In the meantime, here’s what I’ve been doing while waiting by the phone for that call:
Mixing cocktails and pouring beer into plastic cups. Not just for my own consumption but like, for a living. My skill set (two breasts, long hair, and a self-depricating sense of humor) has made it relatively easy for me to find work as a bartender. I also kind of enjoy the job, so it’s been a decent way to earn a living while trying to “make it” as a writer.
Writing for publications other than Nat Geo. Mostly about sex. Because my second favorite thing in the world to write about is getting it on. When funds are low (which they usually are) and I can’t afford to do much traveling/travel writing, I like to exploit my love life and scare away potential beaus with my sex column over at Wildflower Magazine. It’s ruined plenty of relationships, but the emails I receive from people who say my column helped them have made it worth every one of those jackoffs who can’t handle the fact that I write about sex twice a month. In addition to the sex stuff, I also very much enjoy maintaining this blog, working on my novel and screenplays, interviewing interesting people, and writing public letters to my heroes like George Lucas. For a few other examples of what I enjoy writing about, check out my Writing Samples page.
When I’m not writing you can likely find me outside somewhere, normally chilling by a pool (weather permitting). I also love live music, going to the movies, California burritos with extra avocado, and all things summertime. My best friend in the world is a French Bulldog named Yoshi.