Yes, friends, it’s true: I shall reach the exalted age of sixty soon. Very soon. Very.
Recently, I watched an episode of “Sex and the City” in which Charlotte announced that she was not going to turn 36 on her birthday because “I’m just not where I thought I’d be at 36, so I’m sticking at 35.” Granted, she was in a tough spot: her marriage had crumbled under the stress of infertility, and her efforts to resume the career she’d paused for babymaking had proven fruitless. Still, it set me to wondering: am I where I thought I’d be at 60? Continue reading
(Magnet on the whiteboard over my desk)
* * *
There are at least a dozen things I need to do today, but I’m writing this blog post instead.
Because I feel like it. Continue reading
There are tons of excellent reasons to take classes, including:
- You can learn something;
- You can improve a skill you already had;
- You can meet people who are interested in the same things as you;
- You can have fun.
Another reason, less frequently touted, is this: you might write something that gets published and earns you a few bucks. Continue reading
This afternoon, I woke from a nap and checked my email (as one does). Among the messages, two stood out.
One was a very kind rejection from a literary magazine.
The other was an acceptance from Intrinsick, an online literary journal.
Last weekend, I did something unusual: I ate breakfast at the coffee shop near my house. Continue reading
As regular readers of this blog have undoubtedly noticed by now, I am not a person of few words. Continue reading
Last spring, I applied to a very prestigious writing conference, taught by writers whose work is routinely praised, if not revered, by the literary community. Rationally, I knew acceptance was a long shot. On the other hand, I figured the admissions committee probably wasn’t sitting around at night hoping I might grace them with my presence. The only way I’d have a chance was to apply. Continue reading