Sunday, June 25, 2017
Sunday, January 1, 2017
Wednesday, November 9, 2016
Friday, November 4, 2016
Never Resist Pie.
The holidays are a-coming. And, in forty-eight years, I've never dreaded any of them. This is where I feel blessed; I have no relatives--visiting or not--that I loathe seeing. No one that inspires me to stock up on extra alcohol. (Yuk-yuk!)
Even luckier, I don't suffer nightmare-traveling. How, you ask? I just don't. Meaning, I don't travel during the holidays. And the few times I do, I don't even attempt to be at my destination 'in time for Thanksgiving/Christmas/New Year's Eve/Day,' because I have In-laws with careers that aren't holiday-break-friendly. So, there's the lack of that form of familial pressure.
But if you're receiving the "Just get here!" level of stress from clan, why would you willingly oblige them?
The only festivity unpleasantness I choose is the few extra pounds that'll stretch the elastic on my yoga pants. And by the way, men? Chuck the belts! Waistline bondage and Stove-Top stuffing never went hand-in-hand. Loosening the buckle notches to watch football was verboten in my house, growing up; Mah thought it tacky. She was always more easy-going about sweat-pants.
Christmas will be especially fab; I'm house-sitting! Holiday fare, flat-screen, peace, Netflix, solitude....ohhhhmmmm. The only primo improvement would be a lazy cat to keep me company, but I can't have it all. And the home-owners usually honor my simple request of a Barnes & Noble gift-card, in lieu of an elaborate, dust-collecting, porcelain-whatever. So I win again. (And I've routinely spent the card online inside an hour!)
But I'll still have opportunities to hang with an awesomely hip sect that won't have me reaching for the Captain Morgan.
But if you're receiving the "Just get here!" level of stress from clan, why would you willingly oblige them?
The only festivity unpleasantness I choose is the few extra pounds that'll stretch the elastic on my yoga pants. And by the way, men? Chuck the belts! Waistline bondage and Stove-Top stuffing never went hand-in-hand. Loosening the buckle notches to watch football was verboten in my house, growing up; Mah thought it tacky. She was always more easy-going about sweat-pants.
Christmas will be especially fab; I'm house-sitting! Holiday fare, flat-screen, peace, Netflix, solitude....ohhhhmmmm. The only primo improvement would be a lazy cat to keep me company, but I can't have it all. And the home-owners usually honor my simple request of a Barnes & Noble gift-card, in lieu of an elaborate, dust-collecting, porcelain-whatever. So I win again. (And I've routinely spent the card online inside an hour!)
But I'll still have opportunities to hang with an awesomely hip sect that won't have me reaching for the Captain Morgan.
Friday, October 28, 2016
'Unfortunately, at this time...'
'My first writing contest rejection letter.' ~ J. Lawson
Not nearly as powerful as Hemingway's flash fiction piece, but there it is. Oh, I should think there'd be thoughtful questions for it. For instance...
Ya got me! This was the first one. I've known for some time that I had to let contest judges see what I'd been submitting to writing clubs all along. Procrastination was my demon in this, despite that I'll sneer at it in others. And, I'm not feeling that elation that my short story was even read. Plenty of people have read my material; the only diff here was a cash-exchange obligation.
So, I'll try again, likely get another rejection, try again, get another rejection...that's a writer's life. And, despite the J.K. Rowling/Kathryn Stockett/Jane Austen rejection stories, (Oh, yes, even Mr. Darcy was told 'No.') I won't presume to believe I'll 'make it' one day as a published writer. Everyone of my college-writing course professors have given the 'don't quit your day-job' confirmation. In fact, I have favorite, published writers that still have their day-jobs.
But it's still fun to dream. I'll just hope it doesn't take so many rejection emails before I cancel my annual MS Word subscription.
Not nearly as powerful as Hemingway's flash fiction piece, but there it is. Oh, I should think there'd be thoughtful questions for it. For instance...
'Well, what did you write about that the judges didn't like?'
'Did you make too many grammar/punctuation errors?'
'Didn't you send it in time for the deadline?'
'Ohhhh...did you forget to pay the contest fee?'
'Do you mean you've been entering contests, and this is the first time your work was rejected?'
Of course, a jaded Gemini writer--with a Spock-like eyebrow lift--would've known what the first question should be: 'How many writing contests have you actually entered?'
'Do you mean you've been entering contests, and this is the first time your work was rejected?'
Of course, a jaded Gemini writer--with a Spock-like eyebrow lift--would've known what the first question should be: 'How many writing contests have you actually entered?'
Ya got me! This was the first one. I've known for some time that I had to let contest judges see what I'd been submitting to writing clubs all along. Procrastination was my demon in this, despite that I'll sneer at it in others. And, I'm not feeling that elation that my short story was even read. Plenty of people have read my material; the only diff here was a cash-exchange obligation.
So, I'll try again, likely get another rejection, try again, get another rejection...that's a writer's life. And, despite the J.K. Rowling/Kathryn Stockett/Jane Austen rejection stories, (Oh, yes, even Mr. Darcy was told 'No.') I won't presume to believe I'll 'make it' one day as a published writer. Everyone of my college-writing course professors have given the 'don't quit your day-job' confirmation. In fact, I have favorite, published writers that still have their day-jobs.
But it's still fun to dream. I'll just hope it doesn't take so many rejection emails before I cancel my annual MS Word subscription.
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