Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Gotta love indirect rejections
Today I received an email from "A Room of One's Own" contest I submitted to in January (see post below). In the body of the message was a list of the contest winners. My name does not appear anywhere within the email save for the address. Guess I didn't win...
Monday, January 19, 2009
2 More Out There
Last week I submitted an essay to Tiny Lights Essay Contest. It went out the old fashioned way, in an envelope!
Then I squeaked in under the deadline for the "A Room Of Her Own 2009 Orland Prizes" via their online submission page.
Between the two, both of my favorite essays are out.
I am attempting to renew my commitment to my writing. I say attempting because it is really that, an attempt at accomplishing something that is difficult for me to do: write regularly.
Making time to write reminds me a little of being eighteen and not visiting my best friend's mom. Although sitting and talking with Carol felt great, even and especially without my best friend there, I didn't allow myself to go back or fall into a habit. Instead the habit became the lack of visits, the self-flogging I regularly gave myself for not doing something for myself that felt good and healthy. Maybe I didn't visit because I knew that Carol would push me to think more, to consider more outside my own reality and I simply wasn't ready to face her help. More likely, I didn't go because it was good for me and made me feel good. It wasn't partying, it wasn't getting lost in a boy, or a book, or a job.
Eventually I did allow myself the pleasure of her sister's company. I allowed myself to call and visit Miriam often. So much so that by the time she died she was my mother. But that was all many years later.
Writing reminds me of the non-visits with Carol because I know how good writing makes me feel, how much it makes me reach inside myself to learn and grow and exercise my brain, my creativity. It also seems to represent the last vestiges of internal self-loathing, of the mistaken belief that I am not worthy and do not deserve to feel good or to succeed.
But I do deserve to feel good. I am worthy. I can and will succeed. Eventually both of my favorite essays will be accepted and published. And acclaimed.
Then I squeaked in under the deadline for the "A Room Of Her Own 2009 Orland Prizes" via their online submission page.
Between the two, both of my favorite essays are out.
I am attempting to renew my commitment to my writing. I say attempting because it is really that, an attempt at accomplishing something that is difficult for me to do: write regularly.
Making time to write reminds me a little of being eighteen and not visiting my best friend's mom. Although sitting and talking with Carol felt great, even and especially without my best friend there, I didn't allow myself to go back or fall into a habit. Instead the habit became the lack of visits, the self-flogging I regularly gave myself for not doing something for myself that felt good and healthy. Maybe I didn't visit because I knew that Carol would push me to think more, to consider more outside my own reality and I simply wasn't ready to face her help. More likely, I didn't go because it was good for me and made me feel good. It wasn't partying, it wasn't getting lost in a boy, or a book, or a job.
Eventually I did allow myself the pleasure of her sister's company. I allowed myself to call and visit Miriam often. So much so that by the time she died she was my mother. But that was all many years later.
Writing reminds me of the non-visits with Carol because I know how good writing makes me feel, how much it makes me reach inside myself to learn and grow and exercise my brain, my creativity. It also seems to represent the last vestiges of internal self-loathing, of the mistaken belief that I am not worthy and do not deserve to feel good or to succeed.
But I do deserve to feel good. I am worthy. I can and will succeed. Eventually both of my favorite essays will be accepted and published. And acclaimed.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Apparently I'm not a Glass Woman
Glass Woman Prize: sent an electronic submission in July.
December: I'm not on the list of winners or runners up listed on the website.
*sigh*
The only submission I have outstanding right now is for the Phat Girls Anthology. No way of knowing when I will hear back about that. I check on occasion to see if the book itself has been published yet, just so that I can keep my records up to date.
I'm feeling pretty disappointed in myself that I haven't had the time or the energy to submit, let alone do much writing, the last few months. It is definitely a trade. I love teaching, which is what I was doing 48% of the time (48% is the official load number, I really worked much more than that), while filling in the other 62% working in the Writing Center. While I'm the kind of person who can accomplish a lot in a short amount of time, sustained busy-ness tends to exhaust me. So I spent a good portion of the fall happily exhausted.
Spring semester looks more balanced from here. I am, however, working on office space. I NEED a space outside of the house proper to be able to focus and work and avoid the distractions of laundry, dishes, food, phone calls and whining dogs (they are probably the worst distractions; their point of view is that my being home means that I am at their disposal). Case in point: As I am writing this, Teddy is speaking rather harshly to me, awooo-ing and barking to let me know that he wants to go out. Never mind that there is another person in the house, one who is closer to the door Teddy wants to go through.
I'll keep you posted as to when I send something out.
December: I'm not on the list of winners or runners up listed on the website.
*sigh*
The only submission I have outstanding right now is for the Phat Girls Anthology. No way of knowing when I will hear back about that. I check on occasion to see if the book itself has been published yet, just so that I can keep my records up to date.
I'm feeling pretty disappointed in myself that I haven't had the time or the energy to submit, let alone do much writing, the last few months. It is definitely a trade. I love teaching, which is what I was doing 48% of the time (48% is the official load number, I really worked much more than that), while filling in the other 62% working in the Writing Center. While I'm the kind of person who can accomplish a lot in a short amount of time, sustained busy-ness tends to exhaust me. So I spent a good portion of the fall happily exhausted.
Spring semester looks more balanced from here. I am, however, working on office space. I NEED a space outside of the house proper to be able to focus and work and avoid the distractions of laundry, dishes, food, phone calls and whining dogs (they are probably the worst distractions; their point of view is that my being home means that I am at their disposal). Case in point: As I am writing this, Teddy is speaking rather harshly to me, awooo-ing and barking to let me know that he wants to go out. Never mind that there is another person in the house, one who is closer to the door Teddy wants to go through.
I'll keep you posted as to when I send something out.
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