I was going to pen this rambling, meditative post on "reinventing oneself" but as it turns out, I'm too busy to give the topic the attention it needs. In a nutshell, I've been lurching and flailing through some fairly meaningless self-indulgent introspection and dwelling on what to do about it. Maybe I can go more in-depth into the subject tomorrow.
Anyone who knows me personally, it's nothing to fret or freak about. No major life changes or anything, and mostly to do with my writing. And undoubtedly nothing major there either. Just your everyday angst and agitation.
- 8-hours to a SALE of my nonfiction article "When the guidelines say 'for children 7 to 12': An overview of children's developmental reading stages from a writerly perspective" to Writing-World.com.
This was the article I queried, pitched, and subsequently wrote over the weekend. Plus the editor wants to see the other article I pitched to her, and she pays on acceptance! So yeah-for-sure the contract's going out in the mail tomorrow. After all the research I did for that mongo freelance gig a few weeks back, I was pretty primed to write this. Using my Psych. degree makes for a happy Eugie. A huge thanks go out to basletum for bringing this publication to my attention!
- Email from the editor of GrendelSong that "The Goddess Queen's Battlefield" is going to be in issue #2 not #3. Sooner publication, rah.
- 175-days YFOP from RoF, alas.
- At long last, the notes from the editor asking me to turn my middle-grade novel into a picture book. *gulp* Much sleeve rolling up to commence.
Eh, I've had my share of stare-at-blank-screen-and-despair days, although less so much with nonfiction. For me, writing nonfiction is like washing dishes--something that just needs buckling down and doing to accomplish--whereas writing fiction is like washing dishes while juggling hamsters: more fun, but that much harder.