I've got an essay about Blake in the spring 2013 issue of The Sewanee Review, a book review in the spring/summer 2013 issue of New Walk, and this week two journals have accepted western Pennsylvania poems. All of this feels surprising because I haven't submitted anything to anyone for months, though I have a dragon's lair full of stuff that's ready to go. Most of it has already been submitted at least once before and then rejected, and for whatever reason I've never gotten around to resubmitting it. So here it sits on the shelf.
I have a friend who is obsessed with submitting work, so much so that she posts a daily Facebook status announcing every submission and rejection. I can't decide what I think about this behavior. On the one hand, it's a grit-her-teeth, make-herself-undergo-the-torture strategy; on the other hand, it bleeds desperation.
But don't think I am speaking pejoratively. We all have to find ways to keep ourselves going.
And now I will go feed the goat, and then I'll drop back into the world of Amy Lowell and her swarming details, and if I'm lucky, I'll write a paragraph or so of my story-in-progress, and then I will mow grass and water my parched garden, and then I will pick up my son after track practice and listen to sports-talk radio all the way home (sigh), and then I will make potato gnocchi with chive, butter, and lemon sauce and possibly the first rhubarb-custard pie of the season.
4 comments:
I think I feel (o, how is that for waffling?) as you do re: public accountability. Facebook makes it easier to announce one's intentions, in order to be held accountable. However, one would not necessarily blurt that stuff (whatever stuff it is) in the middle of the local grocery store. I sense that the digital anonymity/public forum paradox is at once both bold and safe.
And I am piqued by the idea of a rhubarb custard pie. Post/send recipe? =) Thanks...
The pie did not come out as well as usual. Custard didn't set and the filling was too watery. I'm not sure what happened, but if the next one coheres, I'll send you a recipe.
And the goat? I wonder about the goat's day just to be odd. Did the goat appreciate the grass or is the lack of rain severe enough to prevent grass growing? On other matters, did anyone besides you notice the limitations of the pie? Or was it gobbled (a great word)?
The goat is grumpy and stand-offish. She won't eat grass but stands around yelling at me till I pick dandelion greens for her. But she refuses to allow me to pet her. She is like some mean old great-aunt in a Victorian novel.
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