I mostly did. Otherwise, when the computer cord wrapped around my wheelchair armrest and I was in a hurry and on the phone and didn't notice and sped away and the computer was pulled off the bed onto the hardwood floor and my hard drive died, I would have lost all my writing. Just typing those words "lost all my writing" makes my underarms prickle. So - BACK UP YOUR FILES.
This is the lovely title to Kathleen (Corky to many friends) Culver's new book of poetry. We Gainesvillians have been waiting and nagging and cheerleading for this collection, and I'll tell you that the poems are as fine as the title suggests.
The new issue of Breath and Shadow is out. The theme is "Naked." I'm in it.
As part of a very fun fund raising campaign, they asked some of their previous writers (including me) to be part of a Write-A-Thon. Many thanks to my many supporters.
Breath and Shadow is still taking pledges if there's a piece you especially like.
I almost put this book down. I started it, ohhed and ahhed about the writing, and then became a bit bored. When I turned fifty, I suddenly found that I didn't have to read every book through to the end, but this was Annie Dillard.
I persevered, and the plot twisted, and I was compelled to the end. During the last pages and after, when I closed the book and started the rice for dinner, I was left in a teary mixture of belief in love,sadness about loss, appreciation of friends, and tenderness towards my mother.
A side benefit was learning (by looking it up in the dictionary) what the word "scumble" means.
My ritual whenever I receive an e-mail from a publisher is to hold my breath and shut my eyes as it loads. Today, when I exhaled and opened, I saw the PDF file of the not-yet-published First Person Queer. And there I am! On page 100! The whole book looks fabulous!
I have to proof my piece and have it back by Thursday. I'll bet I'm not supposed to revise a sentence that now looks awkward to me. I'm going to try to slip through a little bit of it.
You know how, when you've been messing in the yard, little black ants will quietly crawl up your arm and then, in response to some secret signal, bite all at once?
Today was a three rejection day. Well, four really. One place rejected me twice. So, just to make sure this sort of thing can keep happening, I've spent until late getting more submissions ready. Sheesh.
Rejection has prodded this web site into existence.
Yes, I made the short list for this year's Best Lesbian Erotica. After checking my e-mail every hour of every day for a month – I wish this was more of an exaggeration than it is – the "sorry, but..." message arrived. I allowed myself a period of wallowing that included a trip to Lane Bryant, a word by word analysis of the rejection letter, extended whining to other writer friends (Civilians just can't listen long enough.), and the stereotyped, yet nonetheless effective, trek to the local ice cream parlor.
Now I'm back in the saddle, which for me means propped up in bed with the computer and yellow pad alternating places on my lap. Post wallowing, I have committed to a thousand words a day on the new book (5000 in five days – yippee to me). I have also signed up for the Typepad free trial. When that next acceptance comes, I need to have a web link ready to paste into my bio.
