I was frantically trying to get my contest subs together. I wanted to enter two fiction chapbooks in the Nerve Cowboy contest, although last year when a poetry entry won, I'd stated I'd be entering a fiction and a poetry the next go-round. But I sent my poetry chapbook to a small press and they: didn't receive it (sometimes I forget to put in acknowledgement postcards so I don't know), haven't read it (it’s still in their open-reading slush pile) or are considering it so that's why they're still holding onto it (yes, I’ll forgive that it’s been over three months)-- whatever.
So it'd be two fiction chapbooks. I had decided what stories would go in which book but I didn’t have a feel for the order that they should appear and I started freaking out. I hate it when I proscrastinate and then start throwing things at the wall and hoping they'll stick.
In addition there was a Feb 1 contest deadline I wanted to meet, thinking I might finally get this one story done that I’ve been working on, but not really—several contest deadlines have passed and I’m still only halfway there.
Plus, I’d received an answer to a query about a story (which had been at a mag past the stated guidelines) and the response was simply, “I’ll read it.” Huh?
AND when I was looking for a cool quote, I came upon this one:
"The problem with writing is that there's not much money in it." -- Reaction by highly-paid model, Cheryl Tiegs upon being paid a $75,000 advance for a book.
Yes, I know it's old, but still. . .
and I read an entry at Susan’s blog
and I understood her feelings and I thought of all the Ethan Hawkes and Jessica Simpsons and whoever’s who get book deals for flimsy reasons or turn down book deals ‘cause a million isn’t enough for you to write about having a successful marriage even though you don’t have one and this funk came over me and in the end I just said, Fuck it.
Fuck it. Fuck it. Fuck it.
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