Sometimes the world shifts, violently, and everything that seemed important sheds away to show what is.
I’m reevaluating. I’m feeling the need to be silent now, but I’ll be back soon.
I will tell you:
She was writing. Wow, was she writing.
But she’s back now—I am, me—and this is what’s on my mind:
What have I missed since I’ve been drowning in writing, anything besides Jersey Shore episodes and Mockingjay (I still have to read it, travesty, I know) and Freedom, which I’ll probably read, too?
While I’ve been away from this blog writing like mad (I’m going mad! But the novel’s benefiting!), my good friend Christine has organized a literary auction to benefit a dear writer friend of hers who’s battling cancer… without health insurance. The auction is raising money to help her pay her medical bills. I’ve been following the auction—and was brought to tears by this touching article on the LA Times blog about it—and all the exciting things on offer, including manuscript critiques from authors and signed books and poetry readings and the chance to have characters named after you in upcoming books, and I really wanted to be a part of it.
You can now bid on a manuscript critique by me—from today until September 16. As a freelancer and writer myself facing the impossibility of affording health insurance, my heart goes out to Jennifer Derilo and I hope she beats Hodgkin’s lymphoma and that this auction helps her do it.
For more about the auction and links to all the items on offer, please read this post on Christine’s blog.
And if you’d be interested in having me critique your YA or middle-grade manuscript, here’s a direct link for bidding on ebay. I look forward to reading the winner’s manuscript—and I’m honored to be one small part of this.
Please consider bidding and please help spread the word. Thank you so much!
I’m at that point in writing when I want to cry or laugh at inopportune moments—while sitting calmly at my desk, while crossing the street, on line at the deli buying a yogurt. My notes to myself in my calendar involve much profanity and can’t be quoted here. I’m at that point where I turn off all the lights and turn on a song and whirl around to it in the dark and then rush to the keyboard to set down a paragraph, pretending that didn’t just happen but it did because I just told you. At the point where I really need to dye my roots but I can’t care about that yet. At the point where I’ve alienated quite a few friends. At the point where I question everything. At the point where a letter in the mailbox sends me into a rage until I forget about it five minutes later. At the point where my clothes just can’t match. At the point where I don’t even watch reality TV anymore. At the point of talking to myself on the sidewalk. At the point where I can’t wash the saucepan I just used for dinner last night. At the high point of trying to write the best words possible, and everything else has fallen to the wayside.
I hope I still have a husband after this.