It turns out we had to put Snowy to sleep yesterday; she had had a stroke as suspected. It’s always a little hard to witness, the anesthesia and then the needle to the heart.
I’m a bit subdued today — a little tired, a little down. It’s about Snowy and it’s about a lot of rejections lately, with no glimmers of hope on the publishing front. I don’t despair as much as I used to with rejections; I’ve become inured to them. I am wondering once more if my writing is unmarketable, and if so, why.
Looking for the good in today — my classes are going well and I’m getting enough sleep. I’ve been productive both in writing and in submitting (short stories and the like). I stirred myself up enough to write this.
Tag: tired
Slump
Oh, I really need to get out of this slump!
It’s like I’ve forgotten I’m a writer, and all I want to do is nap all day. That sounds like depression to me, but I don’t feel depressed. Just tired, and relaxed, and totally meh.
This, I remind myself, is not who I want to be. I want to be a writer. I want to get a novel published, and maybe some short stories. I have two short stories and a novel (still Prodigies at DAW) out there, and a third short-short that should be announced any day now (I doubt I’ve won that one, but maybe I’m a runner-up?)
I’m wondering if winning the short essay contest at A3 has satisfied my desire to get published. I’m wondering where my drive to go further has gone. I’m wondering if I need a change of scenery, but the cafe is closed today.
I’ll push myself to write today, but maybe a bit later.
I sit in the Metropolitan Lounge in Chicago’s Union Station waiting for my train, which should depart in about three hours. I’ve already been here for three hours, so it’s a long wait. I’ve drunk two lattes and three shots of espresso, and my teeth are beginning to hum. But there’s wi-fi, so I can indulge myself in some blogging.
It’s cold in here, and it’s raining outside. The Metropolitan Lounge is reserved for people in business class and those sleeping in sleeper cars (like we will be). It’s quiet with comfortable chairs with outlets nearby and a shower in the bathrooms — although I don’t know who actually showers in a train station shower.
I’m trying to coax some latte out of the machine and hope it warms me up. My teeth will be humming so much I’ll be picking up radio signals soon.
Words Like Me 