We went to my grandparents today to celebrate my grandmother’s birthday–it was a nice day, although I felt like quite the slacker–my aunts and uncle handled everything from my mother’s transportation to Olive Garden take-out on their porch. All I had to do was show up and let the kids be cute–wow, that was a stretch!!!
It’s hard in a way, because the Time Bitch has been very busy among my grandparents–I mean, if I’m pushing 40 fast and they didn’t marry until right after WWII, well, I have no idea how old they are, but I have such a different picture in my head. Grandma was always this stunning and small Italian woman–very graceful and commanding at once. That’s what I see in my head when I look at her, and my eyes are always surprised that she doesn’t look like what I remember from when I was thirteen. Grandpa too–you had to see pictures of the both of them in their youth, but grandpa was drop dead gorgeous–a photographer (and we’ve always suspected, a spy) in WII and Korea he’s survived 5 precocious children, four plane crashes, and is on his second brain tumor. The Time Bitch again–she just won’t leave a handsome young couple be. (I really wish she’d leave Grandpa’s ears alone, too, because mine are going to be just like them when I’m older, and they’re going to start flapping one day and take him away from all this, I just know it.) Mate, being perhaps the best Mate in the world, let me socialize and he, holding Adorable Infant, sat himself across from the grandparents and let them look at her. Grandpa had four daughters…he’s drawn to a baby girl the way a baby girl is attracted to a kitty cat, and I think it did his heart good to look his fill.
Anyway…must change subject before I get too melancholy–some people do that in the fall, but my melancholy season is spring…don’t know why…maybe I’m just perverse that way. But, change the subject I will…
Roxie asked me what I was knitting–it’s the stars and moon baby blanket from the Zoe Mellor book–I sort of amped up the colors a little bit, because I just can’t do blue on blue on blue. I like it, but I was right about hating intarsia like the fucking rainbow plague of rabid death by the time I was done. Man–I could have had it so easy…I had this lovely, expensive acryllic yarn that (get this) self-stripes…I could have done a feather and fan and been over it by now, but nooooo…I had to ask Mate’s opinion, and then privately agree with him, and then not complain about “Crap-all, is it not like I have enough to freakin’ do?” I’m a moron–everybody agrees I’m a moron!!
A friend called me up today–she was so adorable, I couldn’t hardly stand it–she wanted me to look over her letter of inquiry and one-page synopsis to present her completed mansucript to a book agent. I was so tickled–I mean, it’s not like I’ve had ANY luck at all in that department–and I just sent something out last week, too. They’re supposed to have a one week turnaround–who wants to start the betting pool for when I hear back. I get dibbs on “If Ever!”
I was going to post pictures, but blogger is not responding (ShhhhhoccccckkkkkkkEEERRRRR!!!!) Anyway, I’ve got a question for anybody with an answer…
I’m thinking of new, effortless ways to promo the books…Lady in Red is willing to help me with a web site (since Mate has sort of decided his job as a Troll Druid named Marsha is needed to advance the Horde Interests in the Burning Crusade) but other than that, I need something that will take zero money and less time… I’m starting to feel self-conscious about making amazon.com lists…I mean, I wasn’t exactly (I know this is hard to tell by the amount of them) all excited about self-promotion in the first place…but…well…I’m stumped. I mean, self-promotion is something that sort of needs to be done gracefully, and you may or may not have noticed, NOTHING about me, either in print or in life or even in yarn, is particularly graceful. I swear to the twin gods of compassion and honor and the Goddess of joy, taking my books and walking them into the local used book store pretty much used up all of my fronting chutzpah for this span of months. But on the other hand, I have the feeling more people would read my books if they knew about them, and I’m rapidly losing faith in that whole “legitimate world of publishing” chimera that most writers spend their time chasing…
So I don’t know. And it’s not even that I hate my job so much anymore…(I don’t…I’m starting to rev up some enthusiasm for it, in fact…even if they take AP away from me, well, it could have been done better on everybody’s part, but, seriously, like I need one more freakin’ stress-meatball on my pasta-plate of wackiness, really. Besides. I still know I’m the best person for the job.) It’s just that I’m finally getting a little faith in myself…just a little. I’m finally getting some faith that my writing has resonance and reason and rhyme and all that shit that makes reading someone worthwhile. Maybe it’s the writer’s holy grail to share that wine of philosophical immortality with the world. Don’t quote me on that–I don’t want to remember that I ever said anything that pompous, ever.
But if you have any ideas, let me know.
