Standing at the Trailhead of Winter

Yesterday I was in need of something sweet and chocolaty, so I went to my favorite vegan YouTuber and found a recipe for brownies . Since I didn't have all the ingredients on hand, I hopped into the Jeep and drove to the closest store, which is 16 miles away. The lengths I go to just for brownies.  But in the end, they were so worth the time and effort. And now, I am indulging for my mid-morning snack.  Today is gloomy and gray, with rain, sleet, and wind. A good day to stay inside. Even the boys didn't want to venture out just a bit ago for a potty break. Both stood at the door, peering out, then turned and went back to the couch to settle in for a nap. I kinda want to join them, but I'm supposed to be available until 12:30 for virtual office hours. So far, I've not heard from any students, which is usually the case. I'd like to think this is because everything I put into the LMS they access for online learning is so incredibly clear they don't have any questio...

So, five days now and no critiques on my haiku. I did receive one comment, basically asking about one or two of the haiku maybe needing a "cutting" word and saying the cricket haiku was the least favorite of the six. I sent the person a thank-you note. Then, I opened my email to find yet another rejection. This one from a literary magazine I sent some poems to back in early November. Now, I'm sitting here wondering why I feel the need to be published. The literary magazines don't pay. Most have a small readership. Yet I keep sending my work in hopes one of them will eventually say yes. Prestige is definitely part of the equation. Being able to put on my vita that I've had work published by recognized literary magazines adds a degree of expertise. In the event I decide to seek employment at another institution, the publishing credits will help me stand out over applicants who don't have publishing credits. And I have entertained the idea of seeking empl...

Just two weeks left for the semester. I'm kind of feeling I didn't give this semester the best of me, but the students seem to be okay. I'm not sure I ever really left sabbatical mind to return to teaching mind. I went through the motions of teaching but only enough to fulfill the very basic requirements. My thoughts were constantly on my own writing, and new ideas kept pestering me. I couldn't ignore them. Recently I received three rejections in one week. That was definitely a downer. Especially when I see all the So-and-So's poem will be published in What's-It-Called review every time I log into the site where I post my work for critique. Seems like everyone else is getting published. I can't help but wonder why I'm not. I was really tempted to just call it quits after the third rejection. I wallowed in my misery for a good day or so. Then I decided if I'm really serious about this whole publishing thing, I have to keep trudging on. It's real...

A couple of days ago, Funny Delightful Son came in from work and sat in the overstuffed chair in front of the windows overlooking the backyard. I had been lounging on the couch most of the afternoon, binging a program I didn't have to give much attention to keep up with what was going on. Mostly I was simmering in self-pity over receiving yet another rejection. "What're you doing?" Funny Delightful Son asked. "Soothing my sobbing soul," I said. "Hmmm. Is that right? Why is it sobbing?" I could see Funny Delightful Son trying really hard not to laugh at me. "Another editor telling me my writing sucks." "So Mom . . .." This is what Funny Delightful Son always says just before he launches into his practical, matter-of-fact take on a situation. " . . .why is it so important to you to have someone else tell you your writing is good, or at least good enough for whatever publication they are putting out?" All I co...

Yesterday I finished the last poem of the trio I began last week. It's actually the first poem of the trio, but it was the one I started after having the second and third drafted. That's kind of how my fiction turns out, as well. I always have to know the ending before I can back up and start from the beginning. I need to know where I'm going to end up, I guess. With the three poems drafted, I turned my attention to getting a few sent out to literary magazines today. I selected three I believe are strong and demonstrate the theme I'm working with for my project, then went to work researching a possible market. I found a literary magazine out of Texas, read several issues of it, and figured why not? I can see my work being a fit with this magazine, but then again, I think that with every literary magazine I send my writing to, only to be told in the rejection that my work isn't a good fit. This whole publishing thing is so completely frustrating. I ran into a col...

That was the question Hubby put to me yesterday. Without thinking too long, which would only have made my must-be-humble quirk kick in, I said of course that makes me a writer. Someone else determined my work was good enough to be put into a print publication that will be shared with a larger audience. In a way, it's no longer mine. The story belongs to those who read it, who, hopefully, enjoy it. To me, that's what writers do--share their world for the pleasure of others. All I've been thinking about is how the second editor to see this piece liked it enough to want it. The first editor declined it but did say he very much enjoyed the theme of the story. And everyone who has read it has just simply liked it. Each person that I've seen read it came to the end with a smile and a satisfied nod, like the story had the just-right ingredients to make it pleasing at the beginning, through the middle, and even the end. Like that perfectly seasoned chili, not too spicy but no...

Cuz if I let it get to me, I'd be a basketcase. As of today, three short stories rejected out of the four I've sent out. I know three is nowhere near the number of rejection slips some famous writers received before finally getting that one break, so I'm just going to buck up and keep on trying. I've been saying for a long time now that writing is what I really want to do, and I know the chances of making it are extremely slim, but writing truly is all I've ever dreamed about. It's way past time to take it from dreamland into reality land. When I was in college and grad school, I wrote some stories that my profs loved. They all encouraged me to continue honing my craft, saying I have a gift. I sort of just waved their kind words off, thinking they said that to all the students who came through their classes. But then I submitted a story to a writers conference, and the guest writer chose my story alone to workshop with everyone attending. I felt so honored. He, ...