A brief break from my commentary on the world cup
Dogs don’t visit the dead. Lord knows, I’ve tried to get them interested. When we lost Lucy, I yanked Atticus and Providence down to the river bank where I stood gazing at her grave. They mostly sniffed and peed. When only Providence remained, she telegraphed her boredom loud and clear, even when I told her she would be lying next...
(Written today at Door of Hope Writing Group)
When I was in junior high, I wanted to be a Viking. A Viking wife, actually, who stood on the deserted beach and threw logs on a blazing bonfire as I gazed out to sea, awaiting the return of the long-unseen ship.
In high school, I dreamed of moving to Maine and living on the pounding coastline where...
Our most amazing accomplishments—
standing on two feet
taking a step
talking in words that make sense—
we get no credit for at all.
If you’ve been following this blog, you know I spent about fourteen months attempting to rewrite my manuscript, Train Trip: Lucinda Mae’s Quest for Love, Honor, and the Chickens, into a novel a particular agent could successfully represent. At the end of this process, the agent declined representation.
This is not her fault.
For those of you concerned about me after my Great Public Failure (I didn’t get an agent, to put this in perspective), here’s my current game plan:
* send the Train Trip query to the paid-editor for tweaking: STATUS: DONE
* send Model for Detective (When her model partner disappears, a Memphis fashion model uses her “clothes whisperer”...
I have failed, utterly and totally. Yet I feel irrationally exhilarated.
The agent I’ve been trying to please with a rewrite for the last year and a half (!), just sent me a final rejection, door shut, not even opened a crack. Instead of feeling stomped on, I feel relief.
This is so strange.
As a result of the revision process she triggered,...
Those I love suffer. Their pain is not something I can resolve. After all, it’s their pain, not mine.
So here’s what I do: I dedicate.
I go to church, and as I kneel on the pew, I tell God: “This service is dedicated to her. Every prayer I say, every gesture I make, every note I sing—let it go to her safe-keeping.”
3:30. 4:00. 5:30. 4:00.
Q: What are these numbers?
A: My wake-up times over the last four days.
Important information: my normal wake up time is 8:30.
Please note: no naps.
This, as I understand it, is the effect of jet lag. “Jet lag” obviously means sleep deprivation. I thought jet lag meant you arrived in a foreign country and...