Simmering in a Life Edit
I hate update posts, so here's an update post.
The past two weeks have been mentally productive/draining and have reconciled into changes in my day-to-day:
Little things made big
I bought a refurbished MacBook Pro, and I’m scared. It arrives tomorrow. I plan on putting a whole bunch of new stickers on it, but after that, I don’t know what.
My teen son admitted that he lost his phone at an amusement park in Idaho… after almost two weeks. Not thrilled that he kept that from us, but that meant I upgraded to the Google Pixel 7 while I passed my 4a down to him. I like when his flubs result in my benefit. My husband wasn’t as excited.
I rearranged the furniture in The Foxhole, my she-shed/office. I love my mini-sanctuary. It makes me never want to sell.
Just because you can start up a (blank), doesn’t mean you should.
I deactivated Twitter, my last social media platform, but my inner Karen couldn’t help to reactivate so I could complain about Bottlecap Press not sending me my paid order of chapbooks (kind of want to support other writers) nor emails about said paid order. Looking at the masthead page, I’m assuming it’s a husband-wife team. Don’t recommend. I know that too well (read: church). One out of infinite stars.
With that, I’m no longer submitting to literary journals. So many get overwhelmed and then fold after a few months. To be honest, a large number of them just need to die. I appreciate their past help in helping boost my portfolio, but so many are poorly managed with very slow response times and escalating submission fees. Sure, they have to make money to survive, but to be honest, most writers just want a place to publish their work and are not avid supporters. Subscriptions and regular readership is not on many writers’ minds. I can’t even think of the last time I read pieces that made me want to fan-girl a pub. Maybe I’m not snooty, refined, or avant garde enough, but I get so bored reading today’s journals. Sorry. Everything sounds the same while every journal says it wants something raw and deep.
(To those doing it right, you know who you are. Keep on keepin’ on.)
I submitted a very scary piece to a very big publication last month, and my plan is to continue pitching and submitting to those more well-known sources. Also, I’m usually able to get to the end of the stories and essays published in those mainstream pubs.
My remaining fun literary pieces, once out of queue, can always find a home here.
Not selling myself short
The job hunt is still going with interesting assessments (copywriting scenarios–which I love) and one-way interviews (hmm). After crying over not getting a position I didn’t even want and that had nothing to do with writing earlier this month, I decided to shoot for the stars and be more specific. Writing has to be a large part of my future job; this is non-negotiable. If it deals with spicy topics which are reflected in my freelance portfolio, the better.
We’ll see how I feel if I’m still searching when school starts back up around Labor Day.
Grazing in the grass
My husband started a new position at work where he finally has a normal 8-5 schedule which has given me alone time with the kids again.
I like them, but they’re really fun when I get them outdoors or have plans. Our first full week of summer vacation has been ushered in with a new chore rotation, less screen time, park and library visits, music blaring through the house with the windows open, and tackling errands with Mom. Tomorrow we’re going to the lavender farm and taking in the view at one of the national historic sites in the area.
Third, sixth, and ninth grade will be here in about seventy days, and it’s already going by fast.
It has transitioned to a realization that I need patience and solitude, with and without people around. I love watching them interact. To step back and absorb their personalities and quirks is a rich experience. How lucky I am to be in their audience!
Absolutely love this time with them. Not when they were babies. Post-partum depression sucks.
Basically, this summer I’m chilling with some wise advice:
Not a fan of update posts, but it’s been a good time to shut off my mind and let my heart indulge. I am thankful and feeling well.
I want my damn chapbooks though. Also don’t know how long I’ll keep my Twitter active.
We’ll see if my inner Karen or Eliza Hamilton wins out.
With such a chaotic few months/years, delightfully, “it’s quiet uptown.”