Rubycoops

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2 articles reviewed
Suggested price:   9¢ to 12¢ per word
Location:  North Hollywood, CA
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Biography

Currently I am a storyteller in Los Angeles who is traveling with The prestigious Moth Mainstage. I am also a part time ESL teacher teaching English to students from around the world.

I began my writing career as a journalist with the Chicago Sun Times and Pioneer Press and through the years, have written for various magazines and newspapers including a weekly column in the Sonoma Index Tribune.

I spent 12 years as a stand-up comic touring the States and Canada and have written freelance blogs for various industries inc.: real estate, retail, fashion, and diversity.

EDUCATION:  B.A. from Columbia College Chicago BLOG:  Speak English with Ruby Cooper
CERTIFICATIONS:  TEFL CURRICULUM VITAE:  None provided

Niches

  • Finance & Economics (3)
  • Home & Garden (2)
  • Health & Fitness (1)
  • Content Marketing
  • Education
  • Food & Drink
  • General
  • Green
  • Humor
  • Outdoors
  • Shopping
  • Travel
  • Women
  • Writing & Blogging

Writing Sample

Excerpt from my book, Irish Mongrel Child.

Like many war babies, I am the product of passion and lust. My mom, Alice, a shapely, vivacious woman and my dad, Bud, a good-looking WWII soldier conceived me shortly before he was to be shipped off to Normandy where he would float through the sky, dangling from a billowing white parachute into enemy fire: nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Bud, perceiving himself to be a goner soon, pumped all the fear and anxiety of a man condemned to death into his seed. His desire was that of every man: to leave behind an heir, someone to carry his genes into later generations.

I’m sure my mother returned his ardor with fervent empathy, and embraced him with desire, compassion and the combined juices of faith and hope; the ingredients he hung on to as his friends died around him before they even hit the ground.

I understand completely how he fell under the spell of the shapely Irish American woman whose gray-green eyes fringed with dusky lashes sparkled when she was happy, but smoked as obviously as a campfire made with damp wood when her mood turned. I loved her for fifty-five years.

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