One of my goals for this year is to try to get a little more serious about writing. In the summer of 2009 I took an online short story writing course, which I loved. Over that period I wrote a story that I liked, and then just let it sit in a drawer for a long time. I recently pulled it out, reread it, and was not horrified. I took this as a good sign. One of my goals for the year is to see this story published, somewhere -- so I've spent a lot of time in the last few weeks revising, rereading, and sending it off to top-notch publications in which it has absolutely no chance of appearing. But hey, it's a place to start! And why the heck not?
I'm reading a biography of Raymond Carver, and reading about how his first wife propped him up and how his work was rejected over and over again. I have no chance of developing as a writer and trying to make something of it if I'm not putting myself out there -- so now I am trying to start.
I'm also trying to take another fiction workshop course through work this semester -- hopefully I can find a seat among all of the undergrads. I will be amused if everyone else is writing about college kids, and my stories are about young married couples with babies, debating the move to the 'burbs.
Anyways -- today was a crap day at work, and there is nothing on TV tonight, so I have been submitting the story to various places while "The Bachelor" yawps on the television. It was not a good day today, and by the end of it I realized all I wanted to do was come home and give my kid a bath. But sure enough, I felt a little better after that.
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