I see that the world has kept firmly on its axis during my departure for most of the summer. ‘Tis good to know that all plugs along quite nicely without me.
At any rate, my summer has been a busy sort~ full of writing and fun, drama and woe. Everything from glamping at an amazing horse ranch resort in a yurt to getting a ticket for driving with expired inspection. It is time again for school and classes. Since my work has not caught the watchful eye of Stephen King or Clive barker, I suppose that a couple more hundred classes and a zillion more practice pieces won’t exactly kill me. Or will it? Meh~ I’ll die happy.
I spent a great deal of my summer writing. Horror, dark poetry, even poignantly sweet short stories, all in a vain attempt at improving this craft that seems to own my very soul. Some of it was decent, most of it pure craptastic drivel, but all of it slicing ever deeper to the core of my unique, if misguided, writer’s voice.
I am none too thrilled about my upcoming class. Advanced Fiction. Should more accurately be called Advanced Outlining but I doubt that would draw in a ton of writers all drooling to part with their hard earned cash. Yet and still, it is a necessary evil, one that I cannot deny no matter how lively my kicks and bellows in the dark.
It is also time for my daughter to enter 5th grade, speaking of kicking and bellowing. I am sure the month of September will be all the rage in morning fights followed ever so valiantly by homework fights, concluding in the always beloved bedtime fights. Oh, the JOY! Not to mention that her homework will be strategically designed to be impossible for a 10 year old without constant and vigilant parent participation.
I have kept up my fitness routine though my beloved elliptical sits unused in the sweltering sun blasted hell that is my front porch. I’ve found a water aerobics class that has some of the most insane characters in attendance and an instructor who seems to see through my very lazy cringing soul. I haven’t seen any astronomical weight loss spikes but that is because I eat more butter and cream than Paula Deen. I really do eat like a cat. Milk, butter, cream, tuna, salmon, fish, cheese. No wonder I meow and purr when I’m drunk and act like a mad fool at 4 a.m for no apparent reason.
Anyway, I am back. And I sure wish some people would notice me on this friggin’ site because I need some friends to talk to here. Drop by and say hi. Sheesh. I only bite occasionally and even then there are warning signs far before any actual bloodshed. I’d love to post some of my work and get some honest help with them. Anyone out there want to help an aspiring writer to pull her work together in a more…acceptable fashion? Hit me up. I could use the pointers.