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I just found out that it looks like I'm getting an essay accepted for publication in a book sometime later this year. It's been years since I've had anything published (well, in a publication not my own), and I've never had anything appear in a book with a real ISBN number and everything (except my name when I've copyedited things, and I wished the nutball authors hadn't thanked me). I haven't sold a short story in a gajillion years, but for some reason I've always had better luck with my non-fiction writing, though it's been a long time since I've tried my hand at anything.
This writing group has been the best thing for me -- not only has it encouraged my writing, but it was through the daughter of the woman who is putting together this book that I found out about the book at all. It's a little new agey, but you take your markets where you can. ;-) For a long time I've avoided writing about my mother and her death, but this felt like the time to finally start dealing with it in prose. I guess it must have clicked.
I wish I could bask, but I have a million things to do at work before I head to Chicago. And then a whirlwind weekend of travel (bleh!), and conning and vid watching and making... too much to think about, I guess. The last time I had a short story published, I remember my psycho flatmate was on the phone with someone and I'd just come back from picking up multiple copies of the magazine. I started house cleaning and she was saying to the other person, "My housemate just got a short story published and she's vacuuming. I'd be lying on the couch going 'peel me a grape.'" Maybe I don't know how to bask.
This writing group has been the best thing for me -- not only has it encouraged my writing, but it was through the daughter of the woman who is putting together this book that I found out about the book at all. It's a little new agey, but you take your markets where you can. ;-) For a long time I've avoided writing about my mother and her death, but this felt like the time to finally start dealing with it in prose. I guess it must have clicked.
I wish I could bask, but I have a million things to do at work before I head to Chicago. And then a whirlwind weekend of travel (bleh!), and conning and vid watching and making... too much to think about, I guess. The last time I had a short story published, I remember my psycho flatmate was on the phone with someone and I'd just come back from picking up multiple copies of the magazine. I started house cleaning and she was saying to the other person, "My housemate just got a short story published and she's vacuuming. I'd be lying on the couch going 'peel me a grape.'" Maybe I don't know how to bask.
