As I am awaiting to hear from agents and my freelance editor, I’ve heard the old advice to move on to my next project. But which one? I have half a dozen projects the way I read half a dozen books at once. I wear out easily, and then the soul-consuming anxiety sets in again.
What if I get rejected again? What if this initial contact is all a ruse? What if the direction my editor wants me to go is not what I originally intended?
So, I’ve discovered flash fiction. I know, most of you in the literary world may be rolling your eyes at me, going “How does she not know about flash fiction?” Well, I had my head in the sand for a long time when it came to my natural talents. For example, I made all A’s in my English classes from Kindergarten to Graduate School but never really put much stock in being a writer, excluding my Technical Writing master’s program of course. And when I had a horrible boyfriend tell me I was too fragile for the art world, I gave up my art dreams to be with him. I ended up with PTSD from that relationship and a blackened inside because of that.
Enough about all this emo BS. What is flash fiction?
Flash fiction is fiction under 1000 words. It’s the perfect thing for me to work on for a day or two and then hop on to something else. Right now I’m working on some sci-fi. Only having a 1000 word count makes me feel accomplished once it’s done, and then I polish it up over a day or two while working on another flash fiction project.
Today I was asked to send in my resume for a writing internship. I listed all of the writing I had done, and I felt a warmth inside me.
While checking my publications at the Mighty, I discovered one article that received over 400 likes. This is a milestone, as only a few before mine broke one hundred.
I haven’t told the husband yet as he watches John Oliver on his iPad, as is his morning ritual, but I am quite excited. Maybe one day I’ll be a thousandaire in the likes.
In addition, yesterday I was told by Offbeat Bride that I had two more articles I was going to be published by them. As a longtime fan of the website (seriously… I was thirteen) I can’t wait to say I’ll have three articles with them and be part of their bride tribe.
Then there is, of course, my experimental poetry book, It’s Okay, Magic Happens.
It’s experimental mainly for the fact that it was my coping mechanism for PTSD over 9 years and I only took the good stuff, stuffed it into Scrivener, and wanted to see if I could make a book. I wanted to see if I could learn a new technology. Friends who had read my poetry for years told me to self-publish for about three of the nine years the poems collected static on my computer.
Right now I am working on a bridal book I hope to get traditionally published. Email me for more info.
I am hoping this internship leads me closer to becoming a paid, full-time writer. But I am still blessed even if I don’t get the job.
Those of you that follow this blog closely know that I have been hinting at something big. Something huge that I’ve undertaken, a research project that I hope will change the world.
It’s called The Differently Abled Bride Guide.
I came up with The Differently Abled Bride Guide after mourning my own wedding planning experience and still grieving my diagnoses. What I wanted to do was use these two strange experiences to help other women.
In the media, the female disabled body is never portrayed, and when if it is, it is pitiful or evil. There is a lack of understanding from the outside in, and ultimately a lack of representation. More specifically, there is absolutely ZERO representation of disabled women in the bridal industry.
I decided I would write a book about this phenomenon. I’m almost there. All I’m doing is waiting for permission from the people I need it from and to get in contact with an editor.
This book I intend to go the traditionally published route after I was inspired by friends and professional book people in my circle to do so. I had originally planned a KDP book, but after I shared the idea in real life and was met with high praise, I decided to learn how traditional publishing works. As a result I am now a member of my state’s premier literary society.
It’s been a wild ride, and if you’re interested in learning more or helping out with the research, you can email me.
As always, I designed an amateur book cover using a commissioned watercolor used in the book by redlittleberry who, authors, if you need illustrations is fabulous. My book covers are always meant to be motivational for myself. I think these 4 book covers turned out pretty well. However, I could use a little sensitivity. What do you think? Offensive? The last thing I want to do is hurt someone, so please give me feedback. Note: this book is an all-inclusive look at people with chronic illnesses and varying abilities.
For the past three weeks, I have been writing and revising a book. During this time the book was all I cared about. I didn’t eat or sleep – I could even ignore pain. Did I hurt like hell? Yes I did. But I put in 12 hour days working on my book in search of the holy grail of literary perfection.
I even hired an editor, who I start with in a week or so. But now the creative flow has ended, and my pain has hit me like a drunken bus driver with a load full of bricks. The stop sign was open, but he kept on driving straight into my measly Honda.
There’s nerves about the book. This time around I’m seeking to be professionally published. I want to know I can do it and there’s no guarantees. This is the bus full of bricks.
I also want my medical leave to be successful and I can go back to school when it’s appropriate – that is, when I have more answers and can manage my pain better – and also write this book to its polished shininess. AAAND this is the bus full of bricks slamming my Honda.
But if there’s one thing Disney movies have taught me is I can have it all, I just have to align the pieces in the balance of life. I don’t doubt Disney, y’all.
There are days when I feel things more than most. When everything seems more pronounced. Sometimes, I can’t pinpoint the reason. Today the reason was obvious: either this new steroid pack works on my mysterious “autoimmune problem that [I] have” or I get an injection with a 20mm needle into my right hand.
This was daunting for several reasons. One of them was that many parts of my body are ridiculously swollen, and a giant needle going into each of them seemed insane. Another was, “What is my autoimmune problem exactly?” Then there was, “I’m only 27. This can’t be Rheumatoid Arthritis. That’s what my 61 year old mother has. Even if I have something like lupus that younger people tend to have, that’s still terrible!”
So, today I am feeling everything, from my eyes catching pollen to my fingers aching as I type this. My toes ache in my shoes from their own swelling. My brain aches from tender thoughts, hurtful thoughts, mournful thoughts.
But then there is this recurring thought that is oddly grateful for the suffering I have endured.
If my mind wasn’t set on fire from the medical catastrophes I endured over the past 3 years, I would not have any of the material to write from that allowed me to become a published writer on the Mighty, and soon to be on Offbeat Bride.
These stones thrown at me by life have allowed me to build a dinky little weird word castle and enabled me to culture a strange confidence.
I may have been forced to take medical leave on my master’s program, but I am going to dedicate time to writing. I will continue to publish, and I will dedicate headspace to my memoir.
Now is the time to read all those books on my shelf, live at the library, and try to heal through the written word.