Perhaps I just need to percolate on a two week schedule. I spent this day organizing my most recent class assignment, selecting three chapters of my memoir, to determine ifsnd where they belong in this story. Do they add, subtract, contribute or just expand the story, for reader amusement. Two kids loose in a town with a pack of other kids was the norm back in the 40's.but the overriding tale is about monumental things like abandonment and abuse, so I tend to think even a lighthearted lark on a summer day can alleviate the tension.just means I am open to losing some chapters, but will defend their existence first.
There is conference/workshop in Istanbul in May that calls my name and my dollars, but the economy is so rotten that it seems an indulgence even if I can spring loose the bucks. Actually, those are in the kitty but perhaps all loose change now should be squirreled away for the coming rainy day. Speaking of which, it's mid November and there is a howling thunderstorm with heavy winds outside my door. Very wet out there with tornado warnings up. It's a reflection of my current writing mood. I'm still stuck at how to sort what exerpt or what essay to which mag or contest. I sent an essay to the very hard to crack Brevity and have framed my rejection. I just sent it to be brave, but no kidding about it, I dud send one my top four bests, so I had at least a bit of hope. Trust me, rejections from Brevity are coveted.
But under all of this is a pressing need to get on with it, to select an appropriate publisher and send a synopsis and a chapter or three to see if anyone at all would like to publish it.
Such is the writers life. I spend lots of time simply trying to hold the line on my own emotions concerning writing my life. Unlike creating a novel, writing one's life is a whole lot more emotionally risky. But hey, maybe it is simply my own real life novel. Think about it.