Here's the story about this story. Year ago, some local writers were putting together an anthology about sex, and stories about sex, seduction, all that goes with the territory. I wrote "Birds." I had a voice in mind, a character I wanted to portray and I wanted to have a little fun. I sent the story off and then went on with my life. A few months later I got a nasty rejection letter. Not just "your piece isn't right for us" but a pretty eft up critique of the piece, the voice and my writing style in general. I must have really offended the person who rejected me; I imagine the person was a hemp-panty wearer. I ignored it, put the piece in performance rotation. Audiences loved it. I was a finalist at Literary Death Match with the story. It was fun. And now, published. Pretty damn happy. I'd like the mention that I once saw the anthology I originally submitted "Birds" to a few years ago; somebody was using it as a doorstop. No bullshit. No hate. Just an observation.
Life has been good. I was in Tucson a few weeks ago for the Festival of Books. I was on the brilliant "Ban This" panel, live on Book TV on CSPAN. I wan't nervous to begin with but when were being ushered into the auditorium where the panel was being held I noticed a long line, wrapping around the building. I asked the volunteer leading us to the event "What are all these people waiting for?" The volunteer smiled and said "your panel." I got nervous. I managed to compose myself and think I did okay. But when I asked about the book banning in Arizona I ever-so-eloquently sputtered "It's crap!"
The weekend in Tucson was wonderful. I made new friends, laughed my ass off and got to spend time with one of my favorite writers. I saw him in the author lounge the first morning of the festival. I had a plan, I was going to go up to him, tell him how much I loved his work and ask him to sign a book of his I had brought with me. I was cool, collected. I went up to him and tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned around I lost my shit and cried "I love you!" Silly fangirl: full force. So it goes. He was gracious and kind and I actually had several nice conversations with him and wife over the weekend.
I've been working on micro memoir pieces every morning. After I meditate I sit down and write one page of memoir. I give myself a topic; childhood friends, high school loves, my Tijuana party days, etc. I write one page, no editing, not stopping, full go. I haven't gone back to look at any of the writing yet but I'm pretty excited to see what I've come up with. I date the files and put them in a folder. I allow complete vulnerability, I go to the scary place. It feels great.
Life is good, busy. H and I have a long vacation planned this summer. I know I shouldn't book vacations during the summer as it is my busiest work season, but when H mentioned wanting to go to Switzerland to visit his sister I had to say hell yeah!
Honing some other short stories these days, trying to get them out.
Good times. After so many years of crap I am often amazed at how happy I am. And then I get even happier. Grateful. Grateful. Grateful.