Thursday, May 8, 2008

Public letter to a future me

I've been inspired by the website futureme.org and have decided to write a letter to myself a year from now. Read if you wish, don't if you don't.

Dear fabulous, wiser, future me,

Have you realized how great your life is yet? seriously. I hope you've stopped complaining and pitying yourself for every small, minuscule thing you think is wrong in your life. And I hope you've realized that you're wrong more often than you are willing to admit.

I hope you've actually published something by now, or that you've been turned down enough to warrant your usual lack of motivation. And take my advice, ease up on yourself. There is a line between being your own harshest critic and your own personal bully. I hope by now you understand the difference.

Are you still thanking God every day for your wonderful husband, beautiful daughter, and loving family. If no, shame on you; if yes, double those messages of gratitude. Honestly, you'll never be able to do this enough.

I suppose I shall leave you for now, hopefully you've got something great and exciting planned. And if not, well there is something great and exciting about that too.

Love,
Me (or you, depending on how you look at it)

I think I'm giving up internet surfing

With all my spare time I have while at my "job," it's no secret that I peruse the internet with fervor. Well, my dear friends, all that ends today.

Because I was non-chalantly clicking links, seeing were the wonders of the web would take me, and I landed on this (caution--creepy images).

I think I'm sticking to reading my fav blogs and perhaps some MSNBC news from now on.

Shudder.

One of my favorite poems


The Equilibrists

Full of her long white arms and milky skin

He had a thousand times remembered sin.

Alone in the press of people traveled he,

Minding her jacinth, and myrrh, and ivory.


Mouth he remembered: the quaint orifice

From which came heat that flamed upon the kiss,

Till cold words came down spiral from the head.

Grey doves from the officious tower illsped.


Body: it was a white field ready for love,

On her body's field, with the gaunt tower above,

The lilies grew, beseeching him to take,

If he would pluck and wear them, bruise and break.


Eyes talking: Never mind the cruel words,

Embrace my flowers, but not embrace the swords.

But what they said, the doves came straightway flying

And unsaid: Honor, Honor, they came crying.


Importunate her doves. Too pure, too wise,

Clambering on his shoulder, saying, Arise,

Leave me now, and never let us meet,

Eternal distance now command thy feet.


Predicament indeed, which thus discovers

Honor among thieves, Honor between lovers.

O such a little word is Honor, they feel!

But the grey word is between them cold as steel.


At length I saw these lovers fully were come

Into their torture of equilibrium;

Dreadfully had forsworn each other, and yet

They were bound each to each, and they did not forget.


And rigid as two painful stars, and twirled

About the clustered night their prison world,

They burned with fierce love always to come near,

But honor beat them back and kept them clear .


Ah, the strict lovers, they are ruined now!

I cried in anger. But with puddled brow

Devising for those gibbeted and brave

Came I descanting: Man, what would you have?


For spin your period out, and draw your breath,

A kinder saeculum begins with Death.

Would you ascend to Heaven and bodiless dwell?

Or take your bodies honorless to Hell ?


In Heaven you have heard no marriage is,

No white flesh tinder to your lecheries,

Your male and female tissue sweetly shaped

Sublimed away, and furious blood escaped.


Great lovers lie in Hell, the stubborn ones

Infatuate of the flesh upon the bones;

Stuprate, they rend each other when they kiss,

The pieces kiss again, no end to this.


But still I watched them spinning, orbited nice.

Their flames were not more radiant than their ice.

I dug in the quiet earth and wrought the tomb

And made these lines to memorize their doom:—


EPITAPH

Equilibrists lie here; stranger, tread light;

Close, but untouching in each other's sight;

Mouldered the lips arid ashy the tall skull.

Let them lie perilous and beautiful.


John Crowe Ransom

Wednesday, May 7, 2008

Preparing for another conference

What no one tells you when you cheekily inform them that you're planning to forgo a "real" job in adulthood and be a writer instead is that you pretty much have to have 2 jobs in order to finance your budding career.

I've got yet another conference quickly approaching and after hemorrhaging money that I didn't have much of to begin with, I'm left now with trying to decide what to take with me. The problem is, yet again, having too much to choose from.

I'm meeting with an editor interested in some contemporary stuff while I'm up there, so I guess that's got to be taken out of the old filing cabinet and dusted off.

Have I told anyone yet how much I detest work? And that's distinctly what that sounds like.

Ugh.

Why won't someone recognize my scraps of scribblings as the jewels of literary merit that they really are and just give me a million dollars? Seriously. What is this crazy, tragic world coming to?

Well, I will keep everyone up to date on the goings-on (if you will).

Until then, happy writing.

Tuesday, May 6, 2008

News from the publishing front--

I'm not sure how much I've shared on here, (and I'm too lazy to go back and reread my handful of posts), but I've had a partial manuscript up for review at one of the "big 4" houses. It was one that the editor and I sat down and hashed out the plot, characters, etc, and I was just waiting for her feedback.

Keep in mind the only reason I even ventured out into this uncharted genre territory was because I was assured that it would be an "instant sell."

So where am I now, you may ask yourselves?

Stuck with 100 pages that I can either rewrite or chunk in the garbage.

Why?

"Not enough sensuality."

Good Lord, it's only been a hundred pages . . . not nearly enough time for them to be slathering all over each other in every paragraph (that comes about page 186).

So they'll buy my partial if I "inject more romance" into what's already there.

So while I'm anxiously awaiting getting published, I think I'll have to pass this one by. I'm too aggravated to even look at my poor characters now. I suppose, if left to their devices, they'll find the steamy, bodice-ripping love I have denied them.

Sigh.

Monday, May 5, 2008

Starving artist=frugal shopper

Because although I have a 9-5 job, it's at a private university (need I say anything else), and I have an 8 month old daughter, and a husband whose stomach is a bottomless abyss, I have to be thrifty.

Okay, sometimes it's out of necessity, and others it's out of pure enjoyment. I LOVE the good deals.

So I've been reading quite a few personal finance blogs lately. I'll list some that you might want to check out . . .

Money Saving Mom (good blog for the breakdown of deals)
Debt Becomes Her (Quite possibly, my favorite one to read. I even check for updates on my blackberry!!--my guilty pleasure since I don't have internet at my house)
Jane 4 Girls $800 Annual Budget (The things this woman does with a coupon both fascinates and terrifies me)

And there are so many more, I'll be linking up posts that I think will be of interest. But please, check these out. I think they just might be my new heroes. (Anyone who helps me save money always ranks pretty high on my list).

Anyway, I'm stewing on a pretty darn good Walgreens deal, so once I've hammered out all the nitty, gritty details, I will let you guys know. :o)

Farewell to the Praxis II

For those of you who have been reading my blog, you perhaps noticed a reference to the dreaded Praxis II tests I had to take weekend before last.

Let me set the stage.

I've been out of college for almost 3 years, haven't written an essay in that length of time plus some, and have only read Toni Morrison's Beloved since graduation. And yet, I'm supposed to take both the English Language Content, and Knowledge test and the "Why don't we pick random, obscure works to ask questions about" essay test. I don't think I really need to delineate how nerve-wracking that was for me.

I studied frantically for weeks, shunning all contact with the outside world (sorry, Megan), and spending all my computer time Sparknoting long-forgotten classics. Catcher in the Rye, Slaughterhouse Five, 1984, Our Town, etc. etc. And then, two days before the tests, when I was winding down my studying, I ran across a link to Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar. (I know this is random, but I'm going somewhere here).

Having never read the novel, I decided to do what I like to call "zealous sparknoting;" I read plot summaries, chapter summaries, analysis, character breakdowns, etc. etc. And at the time, I felt like I was wasting valuable nuggets of my life by doing so.

But ha, ha!

On my last essay question, I was faced with a list of 10 books and asked to write about 2. How many had I actually read? One. What else was on the list. Yep, The Bell Jar. Sneaky. I know.

So, how did I do? Quite frankly, I'm so relieved it's over, I haven't given it much thought.

I guess we'll know in a few weeks.

5 Reasons Summer Sucks

1. From my office, I can hear the happy sounds of children playing.
Aggravating.
2. I, unlike some people I know, still have to be in my office during the summer.
3. It's hot.
4. Ever since some unnamed coworker tackled the ice cream truck driver down to the ground
for the last fudgesicle, he refuses to return.

and

5. Bugs. Need I say more? ugh.