Well I had this pointed ambition to blog more (Blogmore, sounds like a terrible fictional kingdom) and that went off the rails for a bunch of reasons, one being the loss of my dear Uncle Bob. I know that last time I wrote I was all rah-rah about authentically experiencing my feelings but I really was not putting it out there to court more sadness. Oh, Uncle Bobby, you will be missed.
In the midst of the grief chronicles, life has been happening in that blessedly annoying way it does. Work's work-y. Home's home-y. We're still trying to solve the mystery of the celiac boy whose gut won't heal, but I know all too well that it could be a lot worse. We continue to have fun times with family and friends, I've read a lot of good books, and if I can say that it's saying a lot. All of this combined has aided me in resuming my creative life, which went underground sometime in November. My small writing goals include:
-working on my current WIP for a tight, dedicated 25 minutes every weekday, with an eye to finishing the first draft by Memorial Day, or the last day of HR's school, at the latest;
-submitting 1-2 agent queries per week;
-blog more often, as I mentioned above (why? Some questions have no good answers).
It's been 3 years since I finished the first draft of the book of my heart and like I said, I really believe in it, it just has to find the right fit. I haven't ruled out self-publishing, I just enjoy games and puzzles and it's kind of a puzzle game to figure out how to get a manuscript represented and ultimately published.
I let my guitar get dusty again, but I've been making a point to pick it up for just a few minutes a day. It has to add up, right?
I'm overwhelmed with anxiety about life in this country on the daily, but again, that's being alive and engaged. I don't always talk about what I'm doing on my antiracism journey but it's ongoing. One of the biggest parts, honestly, is one of the hardest parts for confrontation-averse me: talking to my own people about it. But if I can't even do that, if I'm not brave enough to get uncomfortable, then what's the point? It's no good if I'm interacting in an echo chamber. For example, if you're someone I love and you truly don't understand why "It's OK to be white" is a problematic thing to say, talk to me.
Anyway, it's March again and the world is still here and I'm doing all right so let's dance.
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