This morning, an ASPCA commercial came on and I switched the channel to a horrid rerun of Two and a Half Men just to escape it. It wasn’t even one of the Sarah McLachlan ones, just an ordinary slow-motion, stringed-instrument informercial begging for help. I can’t stand to watch them because they’re a punch in my soft heart. Anything to do with the mistreatment of animals knots up my stomach – I can’t even handle movies where animals suffer before their happy endings.
For the first time in years, I’m not going to Comic-Con. I made my decision almost immediately after last year’s Con, and it wasn’t nearly as hard as I thought to resist the pull of the membership presale earlier this year. Once upon a time, I thought that if I prepared, learned the ropes and the tricks, and just went with the flow of the weekend, I was guaranteed a good time. But I didn’t have a good time last year. It had it’s moments, like cons always do, but the stress outweighed the fun, and what’s the point of that?
I was a geek in high school. This should come as a surprise to no one, but in case it does, let me add that I was an ‘under-the-radar’ kind of geek for years by virtue of the fact that I spent a lot of time by myself, so no one got the chance to find out just how deep the geek went. Truthfully, I didn’t even know just how nerdy I was until I surfaced from my solitude a few years later and discovered that most people didn’t get as myopically passionate about niche topics as I did.
Sometimes I don’t know what possessed me to get a Master’s degree in creative non-fiction. It’s not the degree that perplexes me as much as the subject. I love to blog, and I enjoy memoir and personal essay, but my life is so incredibly boring that to share the details of it with you would be tantamount to torture, and, as we all know, we don’t use torture here in the United States.
I have been on such a writing streak for the last week that I’m honestly afraid of what happens when it ends. I haven’t been this productive since college – when I was sitting through lectures on literature and secretly writing scenes for my YA book instead of taking notes. Class was great for my productivity, largely because for some reason unknown to me, I get my best inspiration when I’m supposed to be doing something else, like listening. (I wrote a ton of fan fiction during high school. Literally, during it.)
As a still-unemployed person, I have signed up to receive multiple daily emails that aggregate job openings based on my chosen keywords. Most days, they’re pretty useless, though occasionally potential employment shines through – a job description that at least merits an application. But as I scanned my emails from ZipRecruiter and Simply Hired this morning, I started to wonder what criteria the algorithm used to determine which postings to…
Right, blogging. That thing I do to maintain my online cred and market myself as a writer. When I blog, I prefer to write anecdotes, or short essays – the sort of thing you might find in a magazine – or at least something more interesting than a catalogue of what I’ve had to eat.
I started this blog in 2008 as I was preparing to graduate from college with a degree in creative writing. I had an unpaid internship as the assistant to a producer; I was submitting my YA novel to agents, short stories to literary journals, and gathering plenty of material on what not to do. (I have an enormous MS Word document of other people’s query letters that are each horrendous in their own way.) A lot has changed since then (and, sadly, a lot has not), but what I always hoped to do with this blog was share my successes and failures in the writer’s market, and possibly help others learn from my mistakes.
So this is what I’m doing: I’m writing a comic book.
I hardly ever blogged or tweeted about my time working for Shout! Factory because I lived in perpetual fear of ‘tweeting out of turn’ and blabbing about some project that had yet to be finalized, thus bringing about my swift termination from the company. Figuring out how much to say about one’s own project is even harder, because there’s no one to tell you whether the time has come or not.
I’ve been forced to find an alternative means of caffeination. My beloved Coffee Bean closed the location that was less than a block from my house, profoundly altering my daily schedule – in other words, I now have to put on real clothes and drive to get coffee. Technically there’s one CB that’s still within walking distance, but it’s a bit of a shlep, and takes up too much time…