Month: January 2011

Colds, cold and getting away

This cold is most unwelcome. I should have known something like this would happen. Still, it isn’t as if I would have changed anything–and I had ample opportunity to do so.


Apparently, I am again learning that I have to be pushed right up tight to a deadline to get anything done. I’m working on a rewrite of the 50,000 words I put in during November. It is not a bad piece of writing. Discovering the correct way the bits are exposed is turning out to be a challenge though.

I suppose I could be slaving away, revising ‘Borders’ or ‘Campus Crimes’ or even one of the three ‘Dandelion’ novels I have in the queue, but with the pattern I’ve seen, it is my latest writing that has the most potential to being picked up for publication and I think it would be grand if I placed somewhere in the top 10,000 in the Amazon Breakout Novel Contest.


The temperatures have been so low lately yet the lake hasn’t frozen yet. The bitterness has bitten my cheeks and it has hurt me.

Last weekend we left the state. I hoped I would have been able to get away from the internet, but I couldn’t. I was able to check in with sites I didn’t realize I memorized the passwords to. Bizarre. Even stranger was seeing D. nearly cry. R. was able to pull up the proper Girls with Insurance page and read my essay. He DID NOT cry. I feel you should know that.

The strange part is that this piece seems able to touch people. I didn’t think it was sad, but I’m informed that it is.

And I was going to get up early and post this. My body had other plans. At least now I know exactly where I am in the cycle of this cold. It seems to be following the one Husband had while we were in PA, so I should be feeling really good in two days. Knock on wood.

Well, off to check Duotrope and then print out the corrections I made last night. Will I be done by the 24th? Your guess is as good as mine.


I have to talk about this…

On New Year’s Eve, an unprecedented number of birds fell from the sky in Arkansas. If I weren’t a Charles Fort junky, I could say ‘That doesn’t happen,’ but I know it does. Fish, and even frogs, have been known to fall from the sky. Weird stuff happens all of the time.

Except this:

“What I was Going to Remind You of Someday” is the name of an essay I wrote from P. H. Madore’s contest prompt of “You Could Have Had Me.” There is a link to it on the right if you’re interested in reading it. I sent it in. I didn’t know if it arrived. I got an email stating I was in the running. I didn’t expect to win. The contest was scheduled to go until 31 January. On January 2nd, I was notified I had won. I couldn’t believe it. I’m not gloating; that is unseemly. I am incredibly flattered. It has yet to fully sink in–that my writing was that good; close-down-a-writing-contest good.

Now that IS something that never happens. If it has, I haven’t heard about it.

My question is: What does that mean? Even though I was planning on working on novel writing this year–something I mentioned to everyone in the Christmas letter, should I take this as a sign that I ought to be working on essays instead? Creative non-fiction in general? I don’t know. This is a dilemma of my own choosing-I do know that and I am incredibly grateful for the problems I have, but I have this nagging feeling that maybe I should readjust my sights…

Chyo often reminds me that Doyle hated Sherlock; I like my “Sherlocks” though. At the moment, I have twenty-eight pieces submitted and one fellowship application being evaluated. I’m going to follow through with the chapter revisions that are on my to-do list. I’m going to be still and wait and see what comes next. I would think an acceptance for a short story would confuse me, though.

If you were going to enter the essay contest, I am sorry you didn’t get a chance to do so. I do not know the judge. Actually, I honestly felt like I was cheating on Dawn Corrigan when I submitted to a different editor at Girls with Insurance, if you want the truth. But I remind myself that she wasn’t running a contest and she prefers poetry and flash, not essays…

It’s a heck of a good blast into the New Year, except for those poor birds. I hope yours is going well. Thank you for stopping by!