What-if Wednesdays: No What-If is Useless

What if...

...the sun exploded?
...the moon disappeared?
...every star was a portal to another dimension?

Memoir: Overdone?

Part of the reason I wanted to pursue studies in fiction (besides the fact that I get glowing reviews for my non-fiction and not-so-glowing reviews for my fiction, indicating a need for betterment), is the idea that the memoir, which (in my limited experience) seems to be the thrust of most creative non-fiction classes--wait, where was I? Too many tangents and parentheticals.

Where's my wine? Oh. Right next to me. Okay.

Um. Memoir. Oh--totally overdone. Completely, totally, overwhelmingly overdone. I was browsing at at a bookstore the other day (nothing more fun than swimming through stacks of new books, drenching yourself in the singular smell of ink and paper and ideas) and every other book was "Random Expressive Noun: A Memoir". C'mon, really?

So when I saw Brevity's post about a memoir-within-a-memoir, I had to read the full NY Times review. The author really summed up my feelings about the memoir. Go read it. It's good.

I'm going to return to my (much-needed) wine now. Ahh, time and space to finish reading a book tonight. Can't wait.

Another submission

I submitted my second-ever non-fiction piece for publication. That's always such a fun feeling; it's somewhat addictive. Where else can I send my piece?!

Of course, my first-ever non-fiction piece was immediately selected for publication. But it was an ultrarunning magazine with low circulation, and the piece was a (humorous) race report. (Which I know wish I could go back and re-write!)

Fingers crossed on this one. It's a 620-word story told through a phone call. I've been focusing on telling an entire story, not just a vignette, in my short-shorts, and I feel pretty good about it.

Oh, wait, that reminds me. This is my third non-fiction piece submitted. I submitted a non-fiction piece to my local community college's publication, and it was rejected (boo!). I felt pretty good about that one, too. I suppose I shouldn't take my feelings about a piece into consideration, ha!

Semester: (almost) complete

Final lit paper: check.
Final lit discussion posts: check.
Final fiction submittal: check (see previous post re: PDR).
Final nonfiction class/potluck: check.

All that's left is a final individual conference with my non-fic instructor on Thursday evening. This will be followed by joining my co-workers at a company-sponsored suite at the Padres game. Time to cel-a-brate!

I get two weeks of peace before All. Hell. Breaks. Loose. with my summer semester.

At least I'm beginning to incorporate running into my weekly routine again. Sort of. Well, if you can call walking with a few jog strides thrown in "running," which I do. It's the idea of going out at sunset, when the clouds are yellow and orange and blue and purple and pale with delight, and the breeze carries the scent of creosote and rocks, and spending anywhere from 30 to 90 minutes with only myself as my company, steadily moving through the desert or downtown or my neighborhood, is a stress-relaxer and meditation-inducer.

Sigh. Here's hoping my hamstring will begin to behave and I can really run again.

Coming Home

As a single mom and full-time employee, the idea of undertaking the pursuit of a college degree can be daunting. Add the idea of Honors College on top of it, and it take the idea of overwhelming to a whole 'nother level.

But...as a total Type A personality, it's hard to pass up on the idea of Honors College.

So, today, with some trepidation, I met with an Honors College adviser. Who was awesome. And welcoming. And funny. And a fellow Creative Writer who also happened to be a mom.

It was like coming home. Totally opposite of meeting with my English Department adviser ("You're transferring? With all your Gen Eds? Okay, we're done." *Thwack* goes the stamp and on to the next student...). The Honors adviser listened as I said I'm a non-traditional student and wary of taking on more than I can handle. She reassured me that Honors work is not extra work, but rather an opportunity to meet with like-minded folks who are interested in taking a subject to the next level (what? You mean, no slackers?! *gasp* Community college, while beneficial and I am truly grateful for, certainly had it's fair share of non-caring students). Then she called the Honors Dean in (who used to be in the English Dean) and they sat there filling me in on the various English professors--their quirks, their foibles, who was good for someone with my personality--and who wasn't. 

I now know that the classes I'm enrolled in for the fall semester (including one Honors course) will be right up my alley, and the professors are the type I love ("Here's exactly what I want from you to give you an A"). I felt like I wasn't just a number--I was an important person, with important needs, and they wanted to meet those needs and make me happy.

And happy I am.

Yay!

Earnest Fiction

Recently I was trying to figure out what was wrong with my fiction. I finally settled on the idea that it's too damn earnest. So when I heard a new journal called Printer's Devil Review was seeking submissions of "thoughtful, earnest fiction" that focused on "the inner lives of characters: their intimate challenges and relationships" from non-published or emerging writers, I got excited. Sounds like a good fit, especially for a particular story I've polished in the last couple months. As part of my fiction class this semester, we had to submit a story (in class, in front of our peers, so they see us do it). Tonight, I submitted "Fireworks" to PDR. Yay!

*Fingers crossed!*

PS They aren't affiliated with any organization and are running it solely on volunteer efforts & their own cash. Check out how you can help!

What-if Wednesdays: No What-If is Useless

What if...

...your toddler was a genius?
...your spouse was a genius?
...you were a genius?