I’ve been an insanely busy girl.
Last night, I put the finishing touches on my latest poetry collection, At Louche Ends: Poetry for the Decadent, the Damned and the Absinthe-Minded. I’m submitting it to a variety of poetry competitions. Since almost no one is actually publishing poetry collections anymore except literary boutiques, I figure doing something is better than nothing. The only problem is that they almost all have a minimum of 48 pages. I’m not the most prolific poet, so that was a stretch for me if I wanted to only include the very best of what I’ve written. As it stands, there are a couple of mopey goth girl poems I’d rather not include if I could get away with it. I’m hoping the strength of the others can carry them over the threshold. It is, after all, a sort of modern pastiche of Baudelaire and Lautreamont, which means it’ll probably drop like a cannon ball in a swimming pool with the literary houses.
I then started creating a fiction collection for a separate set of competitions. Again, not a lot of people publishing fiction collections. And it’s fun to put together. It’s really helping me see the road I’ve been on as an author. Just try it sometime as an exercise if nothing else. I’m calling it, naturally enough, Tales from the Handless Poet. And I’m doing a brisk polish on my Hunted episode before sending it off to Bob and Andrew.
MR. WICKER has been submitted to a very respectable small press. I’m probably going to continue submitting it to similar presses, ones that are willing to take more risks in terms of creativity. The book market now is so wobbly, the only thing anyone seems to want are the traditional tropes, which seem to be sure sales. Being too unique is especially not a plus these days.
Speaking of unique, my visit with Steven Forrest in December had a major impact on me as a person and astrologer, but mostly as an author. There’s a true story I’ve been needing to publish but I wasn’t sure how. Steve pulled it out in the reading, much to my astonishment. I was corresponding with Steve about it the other day and it’s now crystal clear how to proceed. It’s going to take me into a whole ‘nother publishing realm, but that’s okay. Should be an adventure!
At present, I’m home nursing both myself, because I’m not feeling too swift, and my condo, which had a bursted pipe. Yes, bursted. I kept asking the plumber and emergency crew, “Don’t you mean busted?” No, “bursted.” All should be well, though. Machines rumbling in the house, drying things out. Holes in the walls where they removed damaged wet stuff, but it’s closed off so kitties can’t wander inside. The ancient linoleum is toast. Adjuster should be calling to set up an appointment soon. The most painful part was writing the $500 check that covers my deductible. Ouch!
Is it any wonder I feel a bit nutty?