I noticed the other day that the job that I quit nine years ago in order to start freelancing is available. I was hit with this unexpected twinge. Would they hire me back, if I applied? That I would even consider this is directly related to my current state of disillusionment with freelancing. This…
Today at Blooming Eventually our subject is Ray Bradbury’s Writing Theory. Write three million words, he proclaims, and you automatically achieve mastery of the craft. What does that look like? Let’s see if we can take a stab at how many words I have written. Where to begin: Does school writing count? Let’s say that…
For me, one of the most personally significant impacts of the current economic situation is the return of Chester. Chester was a happy caribou living in the northern reaches of Alaska until the mighty hunter Captain Daddy shot him dead seven years ago. Now he is merely a shadow of his former self—or, more specifically,…
“No one is going to publish a first novel by a 45-year-old.” This little curse was spoken recently by one of the members of my writing group. Today it reverberates around my skull. So many of my cohorts seem to lately feel our age like an ankle shackle, while still recognizing that in the grand…
Three weeks ago, the local library suffered a bomb scare. When I tried to return my item on-time like the good girl I’ve always been, the whole place was cordoned off with yellow tape. The next morning, after noting in the newspaper that the library had not been destroyed in an epic explosion, I tried…
If writing were riding, I’d have fallen off the horse and landed in the ER more than once. I seem inclined to cling, stumble, plummet to the ground: Then get back up, like some sort of indomitable horse-loving fool. (Or head-injured, masochistic fool—you decide). Here I am: back in the saddle. In an effort to…
Yesterday at the park we ran into a classmate of Chicken Little’s and his mother. We got to talking about the preschool, how the kids like it, which days they attend. Hers—Monday through Thursday. Mine—Monday and Friday. “How does that work?” she asked. It took me a minute to figure out what she meant. I…
In the pages of the current issue of High Desert Journal is an essay of mine. It’s one that is close to my heart; I am thrilled to see it in print. The Journal is a literary and visual art magazine that once seemed beyond me. To be published by them is to stand alongside…
I needed to dive into my book again. I thought that was because I believed the project had potential. Now I think maybe it was because I needed to be reminded of why I set fire to it in the first place. Other things my consultant said: Memoir is currently dead weight in the…
“When you set fire to something, man, you’ve got to respect that.” The anniversary of my book burning was Monday. I forgot all about it until yesterday. This is very ironic because part of the reason it never crossed my mind is that I was totally focused on the consult to work on the book’s…