There is a terrifying snow storm a-coming! The high tomorrow is supposed to be 16 degrees Fahrenheit, and we’re supposed to get inches upon inches of snow.
This means wonderful things. I don’t have anywhere to be tomorrow, so I’m going to slip on my snuggy socks, make myself bucketfuls of hot-coca, and wrap myself in a lovely blanket. Then, I’ll get to work.
I love being snowed in because it is the perfect excuse to write. Writing, to me, seems cuddly and self-involved, and falling snow and below-freezing temperatures tend to put me in that mood.
Add a bit of lovely chocolate caffeine, and the stage is set for a very productive day.
Since I decided to write and publish short stories I’ve been in full-blown short story mode. Usually this would entail buying a heap of lengthy anthologies and reading only a few of the stories.
But, as I said, I quit my job at Starbucks. That, in conjunction with the dumpy economy and the even dumpier publishing outlook, has made me pinch my pennies. The library and I have become best friends.
I checked out the “Writer’s Market” book, and looked through it, hoping and dreaming. This dreaming was tempered by my revisions of fairly stubborn stories, but do not fear. The dreams remain alive and well.
In an attempt at better understanding certain publications, I went to a bookstore to read some of them.
I expected very much to use my analytical skills to discern which magazines I should pursue. This did not happen. I’m still a little confused, in fact. What did happen was this: inspiration.
I really didn’t expect to find good writing between those pages, mostly because my mind was focused on something completely different. I really liked the surprising mix of formality and casualness that many of the stories had.
Nearly all of the stories held me fast in my chair and took me to an emotion or a moment or a person. It was strange to be effortlessly pushed around like that. Strange in a good way.
I suppose the stories didn’t touch me on a deep, emotional level, but it’s good to know that there are people out there doing good work. It gives me a healthy standard, and I’m inspired to be better.
I’m going to be honest here. I am addicted to caffeine. It’s not so bad since I quit my job at Starbucks (as you can imagine!), but it’s still there. It’s also not as bad as some people I know, who drink coffee at least three times a day.
I only have a cup if I’ve eaten enough that day—coffee gives me headaches if my stomach is empty—and if the coffee maker is clean.
I used to make coffee in a coffee press, but that entails far too much work. And, since I’m being honest here, I’ll say this: I only did it because it made me feel like a coffee snob. Which was a nice feeling. But, now that my coffee-obsessed days are over, a regular old Mr. Coffee maker is good enough for me.
I am fairly particular about my beans, though. I like Veloce Coffee because it’s fair trade, it’s organic, and it’s roasted just over yonder (in Boulder, CO). All of which makes me feel like a coffee snob in a different way.
And this coffee snobbery is just what I need to get going.
Okay, really, just give me a Coke and I’m happy.
Fear is awesome. I woke up this morning and made myself the quickest cup of coffee that has ever been. I guzzled it, and then grabbed handfuls of cheerios sans milk and stuffed them into my face. I then sat at my kitchen table in a daze of terrified inaction.
I got online to review my application and make sure I entered my phone number correctly. All was in order. The call was a few minutes late. Had something gone horribly wrong?
It hadn’t. I got the call. The woman on the other end was really enthusiastic and seemed genuinely interested in her job. It was surprising and nice. The call was partially an interview, but it was mostly “We want you, but we want to make sure you’re not a crazy person.”
So I got it! And now that I’ve hung up, the coffee is finally starting to kick in.
I’m going to be writing articles about independent film in the Denver area, which is something I like. The whole thing seems pretty legit.
I’m really looking forward to this, and I’m really thankful that I got it. It’s too bad Thanksgiving is over. Ah, well, I guess I can still celebrate with some turkey and a post-meal nap. If the coffee wears off.
I have just started trying to get writing jobs. As such, I’m going for whichever ones I can get. I have no resume, and I have no experience—just a lot of unpublished writing and some balls. Not even big balls, just little ones. And they’re shaking in their little boots.
I am honestly terrified of the publishing world. This is, no doubt, due to huge amounts of ignorance. Bucketfulls. In fact, it’s hard for me to comprehend how little I know about it. I suppose I’ll learn as I go (my favorite method!), but right now it’s scary.
One thing that is causing me a great deal of distress is a business call I have tomorrow morning. I applied for a small thing writing articles about movies for an internet site, and they’re giving me a call to discuss something.
I’m not sure what they want to discuss, exactly, but I think I might be in. People only call if they’re interested, right?
I’m trying to remain calm, I am. Here I go. Inhaling and exhaling.
Okay. I’ll give it my best.
Hi there! I am a simple writer, and I am here to document my super fun attempts at getting published and my life in the meantime.
I like writing. In elementary school we had an assignment to write about a hidden treasure. I could not decide what it should be. Eventually I led my main character on a lengthy journey through the jungle and the desert until he found the treasure box. The treasure, it turned out, was a bunch of clean underwear, which was lucky because he had forgotten to pack any.
Perhaps this just shows that I have a juvenile sense of humor, but I suppose that moral is just as valid.
I haven’t been published, except in my high school literary journal. I am going to change that, and along the way I’m going to tell it like it is.
