Dearest day laborers, night sweats, lucid dreamers, underpaid saviors. The early fading blooms of August flowers. I have no cure. I’m sorry. I am ashamed. I am feverish and tired and wearing a tread in borrowed optimism. I am reading. Wanting to read.
Books won’t fit in my hands. Both eyes blur at the screen. Music is medicine that seems to work for a while then fitful dreams take hold and confuse everything. So I have decided to stay awake. To stay put. To keep trying with a blanket across my shoulders and a steamy cup beneath my nose. I have found some goodies online worth sharing.
Little Fears offers us all some valuable information on a new way toward publication. #PitMad is happening soon and here’s details. Thank you. I didn’t know this was a thing until the last one was over. It sounds very energetic, of the moment, apropos.
Allison K. Williams offers up this darling: Query 101. Though Brevity is a site that spotlights nonfiction, the information within this post can be applied to the fiction writers’ querying process. Some of the advice within would have been especially appreciated a few months back by yours truly:
query with energy but without hope. Treat it like a trip to the mall. You’d like to find a great new jacket, but you’re not devastated if your favorite store doesn’t have one.
I have to admit to being devastated by more than one trip to the mall over the years. Even so, terrific analogy. Maybe one I could have grasped through the fog of desperate euphoria that was the side-effect of finishing my first fiction manuscript. Especially that part about query with energy but without hope.
A great deal of my life could fall under that description … just replace query with continue. Continue with energy but without hope. This seems tedious, but the distinction is important.
Hope is a dangerous thing. Hope is a thing with feathers. That will swoop down and peck your eyes out. Hope … for me … can be diesel splashed on a fire. 1)Rather unnecessary if the goal was to have a fire. The fire is right there, dude. The fire is already happening. Then, Boom! Who’s gonna clean this up? 2)And so begins the ill-contrived justifications for the hair-brained scheme to help the fire along while swiping at the soot and debris halfheartedly. Disappointment dousing momentary optimism. Someone please go hide that can of diesel.
Rather than expounding upon analogies until it all becomes a terrible misuse of metaphor, I will say that the word count is happening. The fiftieth was celebrated in a flurry of excitement and loud good wishes just hours before allergies came along to make me miserable. To make me remember that I am weak and pathetic. Ideas are dying before I can write them down.
Today’s physical & mental prowess can be likened to that of someone who maybe took way too many antihistamines then got on a treadmill stuck on high speed, uphill. Today is not awesome.
Tomorrow might be better. Maybe the flowers won’t fade until after tomorrow.