All My Eggs
and no basket to put them in
I found out today that my book proposal did not get accepted by Lark Books. To say that I don't give a damn would be a lie. Just like it would be a flaming lie if I said it didn't hurt that I got passed over for the library job- even though I had some pretty great endorsements from people whose opinion means something to the person doing the hiring- yeah, it was a fresh crush in the chest. On both counts.
You know what's really nice? It's nice that I don't have to worry about getting pregnant. Because my eggs are starting to do the New York Times crossword while I drink coffee in the morning and I could swear I heard one of them say "Yo bitch! Gimme some sugar!" today.
You can count on me to see the sunny side of the street.*
You know how sometimes you have an itch to read something, though you're not sure what exactly, so you look on the library shelves for it and only find Oprah looking back from every book spine? So then you go to your local book store hoping to find that book you're in the mood to read, the book you know will lift your spirits and raise the bar on the status quo, and you don't find anything but the memoirs of people who are filthy rich already, vapid, and wearing the most stupid clothes you've ever seen?
I know how that is.
Sometimes you have the write the damn book yourself.
And publish it yourself because no one will ever believe in you enough to hire you to do it for them. Maybe because your tongue gets tied when you try to explain your ideas.
So, here I am. Point blank. The empty page.
Writing will almost certainly never make me a living. So thank god for the wonderfulness of my boss at Hopscotch, for hiring me to work for her in the toy store. It really does help us that I'm working there. Then there's my Etsy shop. I've been working much harder at keeping it stocked and I've been getting more orders. Those orders have been so incredibly helpful! I want to demure and say I don't need them, but every time it looks like the power might have to be turned off here, I get enough orders to get us through the tight spot. So maybe, just maybe, I can do what I'm doing right now and we'll be able to stop using the credit cards and start paying them down. It feels like an awful lot to ask the Universe to keep up this more hopeful trend.
So, about that empty page.
It's time to make that magazine I was talking about. Tonight I will write my outline. I flesh out the real details. I aim to get the first issue ready by November first. I don't intend to share the content of it here because if I did that there would be no reason to produce this mythical beast. However, I intend to share the whole process of producing it. I intend to invite you to participate and try not to be offended when you don't. I intend to elicit the help of my friends to get this thing made (you know who you are!!) for trade. I have lots of great stuff with no where to sell it. I can't pay a dime. Even if I had one I am not allowed to embark on any ventures which require capital investments. I fail at those kind of ventures.
This one's for me.
Because I know I can do it.
Because I know what I have to offer is worth page space.
Because no one has done it yet.
Because I'll never be able to explain to Lark, Chronicle, or Quirk books why they need me and unless I can convince them myself they will never pick me.
Because I talked to Capello this week-end on the actual phone and she is such a ROCK STAR! (OK, that's not really a reason why I'm going to publish my own magazine, but I have been dying to say that and have had a hell of a time finding the appropriate moment to slip that in.)
Basically what I'm doing is starting my own team and picking myself first.
For me that's profound.
Sometimes it's the only way to show other people what they're missing. Sometimes it's the only way to get others to listen and to see your vision: to set them free of any obligation to recognize it until everyone else does. By then you don't need anyone.
I promise not to put myself on every cover.
I promise not to preach.
I promise never to stare you down from the front of every cracker and cereal box in the grocery store.
I promise not to coin every clever phrase I can come up with (this one's easy because I don't come up with clever phrases like "It's a good thing." because they make me want to shave my ass and roll in salt afterwards.**)
I promise to continue to seek the light while never running from the dark.
That's it. That's all my eggs.
*(And run like hell.)
**Oh, excuse me for that little coarse outburst.
You know what's really nice? It's nice that I don't have to worry about getting pregnant. Because my eggs are starting to do the New York Times crossword while I drink coffee in the morning and I could swear I heard one of them say "Yo bitch! Gimme some sugar!" today.
You can count on me to see the sunny side of the street.*
You know how sometimes you have an itch to read something, though you're not sure what exactly, so you look on the library shelves for it and only find Oprah looking back from every book spine? So then you go to your local book store hoping to find that book you're in the mood to read, the book you know will lift your spirits and raise the bar on the status quo, and you don't find anything but the memoirs of people who are filthy rich already, vapid, and wearing the most stupid clothes you've ever seen?
I know how that is.
Sometimes you have the write the damn book yourself.
And publish it yourself because no one will ever believe in you enough to hire you to do it for them. Maybe because your tongue gets tied when you try to explain your ideas.
So, here I am. Point blank. The empty page.
Writing will almost certainly never make me a living. So thank god for the wonderfulness of my boss at Hopscotch, for hiring me to work for her in the toy store. It really does help us that I'm working there. Then there's my Etsy shop. I've been working much harder at keeping it stocked and I've been getting more orders. Those orders have been so incredibly helpful! I want to demure and say I don't need them, but every time it looks like the power might have to be turned off here, I get enough orders to get us through the tight spot. So maybe, just maybe, I can do what I'm doing right now and we'll be able to stop using the credit cards and start paying them down. It feels like an awful lot to ask the Universe to keep up this more hopeful trend.
So, about that empty page.
It's time to make that magazine I was talking about. Tonight I will write my outline. I flesh out the real details. I aim to get the first issue ready by November first. I don't intend to share the content of it here because if I did that there would be no reason to produce this mythical beast. However, I intend to share the whole process of producing it. I intend to invite you to participate and try not to be offended when you don't. I intend to elicit the help of my friends to get this thing made (you know who you are!!) for trade. I have lots of great stuff with no where to sell it. I can't pay a dime. Even if I had one I am not allowed to embark on any ventures which require capital investments. I fail at those kind of ventures.
This one's for me.
Because I know I can do it.
Because I know what I have to offer is worth page space.
Because no one has done it yet.
Because I'll never be able to explain to Lark, Chronicle, or Quirk books why they need me and unless I can convince them myself they will never pick me.
Because I talked to Capello this week-end on the actual phone and she is such a ROCK STAR! (OK, that's not really a reason why I'm going to publish my own magazine, but I have been dying to say that and have had a hell of a time finding the appropriate moment to slip that in.)
Basically what I'm doing is starting my own team and picking myself first.
For me that's profound.
Sometimes it's the only way to show other people what they're missing. Sometimes it's the only way to get others to listen and to see your vision: to set them free of any obligation to recognize it until everyone else does. By then you don't need anyone.
I promise not to put myself on every cover.
I promise not to preach.
I promise never to stare you down from the front of every cracker and cereal box in the grocery store.
I promise not to coin every clever phrase I can come up with (this one's easy because I don't come up with clever phrases like "It's a good thing." because they make me want to shave my ass and roll in salt afterwards.**)
I promise to continue to seek the light while never running from the dark.
That's it. That's all my eggs.
*(And run like hell.)
**Oh, excuse me for that little coarse outburst.
Labels: chaotic life, magazines, writing