I went away. I went to Italy with my partner-in-crime and spent 11 beautiful days celebrating love and life and circumstances. It really was that simpe. Every day was gentle and kind, even as we tried to navigate public transit in a number of territories where very few people spoke English. We ate and and held hands and explored together. There's no real way to share just how much it meant to me in a condensed paragraph, but that's what I'm doing, because this post is not about my travels through Italy.
It is, however, about something that happened one day while I was sitting down for a nice long lunch in Rome. As I sipped on a glass of red wine and settled back to enjoy the perfect breeze, I had a euphoric moment of anticipation. I could not wait to come back home and write again. This time last year was a huge deal for me as my kid started school, providing me with actual quiet time to work. I felt like the my days were suddenly filled with possibility. I started reading. I tried to implement a running routine. I stopped blogging simple word counts and started really acknowledging my identity as a writer. It was amazing for about a month because I suddenly could do the things I wanted to do. And then I had to go through the struggle of figuring out what that looked like. I delayed finding my way there until the beginning of this year when I developed the routine that worked for me. So, on a sunny day in Rome two weeks ago, I was flooded with excitement at the thought of starting the 'back-to-school' season when my routine already known and a first draft with a media outlet for exposure. I have never in my life been so happy to return to work.
I spent the Summer getting the first act of my book onto Jukepop. A venture that has been both wonderful and detrimental to my newfound identity. I love reading other Writers as they take the leap and put their work out into the world, and I really am working to build a social network that genuinely embraces people like me. I still have not found the balance of generating my own content and reading the works of others, but I am happy to keep working at it until I get there. I will get there.
Initially I found myself obsessively checking my status on Jukepop to see if I made the top 30. And I did. I made the top 5 - twice. June and July were a bit much as I digested the idea that people were actually reading (and enjoying?!) my work. Then I had to work through my reaction of receiving criticism, and the what-if of how to handle the someday reception of my first truly negative feedback. Then I decided to find a good Therapist to make sure that I have the tools to handle the level of public visibility that I am planning to take on this Fall. I realize that pandering to my neurotic psyche is not especially glamorous or original, but I feel like I am at a point in my life when self-destruction just is not going to work anymore for dealing with those less than stellar feelings surrounding self-worth and failure. Now Jukepop has (almost) comfortably become a tool for building my platform and getting ready for the next steps.
As for what those next steps are, I anticipate another draft revision before the end of the year. I would like to buff and shine Valentine's Resolution for query and submission by November at the latest. While I do that work, I am going to try to figure out the Wonderland of juggling more than one project at a time. I have had an historical fiction series novel on the backburner of my brain for a year now and I have to start planning it or I will burst. On top of that, I would like to start down a more structured education path, starting with Holly Lisle's course on flash fiction and moving toward Coursera for the Spring semester.
So I am still doing this crazy writing thing, and I am not bored or defeated yet. This is promising.
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