This week I'll wend my way to the great southwest and try to pay attention in writers workshops and lectures, with other writers polishing their skills. The winter season has been kind this year and a lesser challenge than most winters here. Even so, I loathe being cold, so I look forward to sunshine and warmer air, with clear skies and starry nights. I'm currently experiencing a lot of pain, and know I'll be spending time with physicians when I return. I am a true wuss and generally neglect myself. Whatever is wrong lets me sleep through the night,so I have been able to postpone sleuthing with someone able to figure it out. Trekking airports won't be easy, though.
When I am over whatever this hump is, my intent is to throw myself at the memoir and complete it. A further goal is to send, send, send essays and excerpts to literary magazines to see if someone, anyone, will show interest in printing me. I find this part of writing tedious and defeating. Try as I might, I cannot get past some blind spot I seem to have about which publishers want personal essays, never mind that they say they do. I seem to be choosing wrong. and I can't figure out what I don't get. I see that in some cases what is printed is way, way out of my league. I can live with that, I get it. But there are some magazines printing stuff several cuts beneath mine. And they pass on me, too. I must just keep truckin'.
I suppose someday it will so clear that I won't be able to figure out what escaped me, but not now, Bud. Not. Now.
Oh, I'm so jealous. I could use sunshine right about now! Your idea of submitting essays is a good one, while getting your book deal going!
ReplyDeleteThat's what I'm trying now,too--as of last week, I scored ONE, lost three. You'd think I'd be happy but mostly, I'm confused. Like you, I wonder, WHAT do they want? Two of the losers were humor. That's what I love to write,to escape the memoir sometimes. I try the essays out on people, and they have to really laugh before I say Okay, let's give it a go. So, I was SURE the one about my maniacal slug-lobbing was a winner when I got to the part that one of the slugs hit a passer-by (not my intent) and my daughter laughed so hard her big forehead vein stuck out. Nope. Rejected. Guess what got accepted? My brothers suicide. You gotta ask yourself, REALLY? BUT, guess that tells me, my memoir will have more of a chance--so better take pieces from that.
Soak up every moment of your conference, and a little sunshine too!
Mandy