Even through all the rejections and trials, there’s still a glimmer of hope. That’s what I find keeps me going…keeps me writing. There are days that still get me down. Those are the days I think about giving up. I lived without writing before. I’m sure I could live without it again. Then, I’m drawn back to the typewriter with a new idea or a way to improve an old one. I can’t give this up. What if the next one is The One.
This is a great piece by Suddenly Jamie.
Writers are not normal people.
It started when I was a kid. I would often carry a notebook with me, scribbling everything and nothing on its welcoming pages as I sat alone in a quiet corner of the playground, or – later, when I was older – at the end of a long table in study hall. When I entered the working world, my notebook accompanied me on the commuter train and was my lunch date on the Boston Common. Now, in my life as mom and freelance writer, my notebook is an even more constant companion. Tossed in the back seat or tucked into my bag, it is always at the ready. Whether I’m idling in the pick-up line at school, sitting at the edge of the arena watching my daughter ride, or waiting in the doctor’s office, my notebook is never far away.
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Thank you, Deborah Lee Luskin for a behind the scenes look at the process of judging of writing contests. This is a well written piece and I could not help but share it.
In 2005, I won a local writing contest; as a result, I’ve frequently been asked to judge it. (image: http://www.pixabay.com)
Like many writers, I’ve submitted short stories to contests, hoping that my work would win and fearing that my entry would be far outclassed. But I’ve not entered many contests, mostly because I figured if I had to pay someone to read my work, I’d do better investing in an editorial reader to give me meaningful feedback.
I have submitted work to contests with no entry fee – and I’ve won prizes: both money and recognition, but neither fortune nor fame. In 2005, I won a local writing contest; since then, I’ve frequently been asked to judge it. This has given me a new perspective on contests and how winners are picked.
At first, I was one of five judges. We all read all the entries, then met to decide…
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I put this on my Twitter feed and thought it might be right for the blog as well. If you must get back to work, why not do it with a smile on your face? …are you smiling yet?
Coming soon I’ll be in an internet slow zone. Through June and July, I will not be able to interact on line as easily as I usually do. Please forgive me on any delay in everything internet related. Meanwhile, I’ll be working on my new book (Still unnamed). Currently, I am nearly half finished with the first draft. I hope to have it completed and a second draft in the works by summer’s end.
Monday is a strong, rough man with muscled arms and a strong back. He gets up before the sun and eats breakfast as he drives his truck to work. Purpose-driven and purpose minded, Monday sees each day of the week as an opportunity to get his job done and another one started. He goes to bed each night with aching bones but the fulfillment of a job well done.
Tuesday is a busy mom—all lists and schedules and to-dos. It is full speed ahead from sun-up to sun-down for this pony-tail wearing beauty. She prepares meals in advance. She irons her husband’s shirts and makes sure he’s set for work. She drives her kids to school, practice, and friends’ houses, running errands as she goes. She organizes, relocates, and cleans in the little pockets of time that most of us relax. She doesn’t slow down until each rug rat is tucked into bed and she hears her husband snoring. This is her favorite time of the day. This is when she’s able to stop and take a breath. When all is quiet, Tuesday pokes her head into each of her family member’s rooms and as love fills her heart, she finds the strength to face another day.
They call her Wednesday because she’s a breath of fresh air. Neither too cheery nor too dreary, Wednesday is the perfect balance of eagerness and reluctance. She’s an older woman with the beauty of age and the heart of a grandmother. She gets her job done with a set determination yet, complains when she has to fix another’s hurried mistakes. She’s kind to the homeless vet yet suspicious of the homeless teen. She’s comfortable without being overly hospitable and doesn’t like those who overstay their welcome. She’s loyal to those she loves.
His name is Thursday. He’s a big guy with stubble on his face and a leather wallet. He’s able to lighten the mood no matter how bad things seem. He has a friendly smile and an easy laugh. When Thursday’s in the room, you’d better be on your toes because he’s only a heartbeat away from the next joke. He’s looking forward to the weekend and making plans. He enjoys a cold beer after work and hanging out with his buddies. Thursday’s a hoot.
Friday is an athlete pumped up for the big game. He eagerly checks his watch every five minutes and stares out the window. He’s never still, always bouncing a leg or tapping a finger. He’s got a lot of friends and a lot of people that want to be his friend. He wears rich colors in comfortable fashions. Denim is his material of choice. He’s nice to everyone but often doesn’t notice the quiet ones in the corners.
If you are wondering about Saturday, he’s kind of a moody sloth. He likes to sleep in late and watch cartoons while eating cereal and lounging in his living room. The day starts slow for him but once he’s up and going, he can be quite productive. If he’s in the mood, Saturday’s the guy you see mowing his lawn, washing his car, cleaning his gutters, or coaching a kids’ soccer team. He’s out having fun with his friends or flying a kite. If he’s not in the mood, he’s the dude you see wearing pj pants at one in the afternoon at the grocery store.
Sunday is a pair of identical twins. Twin One gets up early with a song in her heart and a swing in her stride. She wears her hair in a bun and adorns it with butterfly clips. Her twin’s in bed late, sleeping off the party from the night before. Twin Two grumbles as she gets ready for the day, running her fingers through her loose and wavy hair. When they look at each other, each twin is puzzled by the other. “So different than me,” they both say. Twin One would die for her sister as would Twin Two for hers. For all the ways they’re different, they recognize that in more ways, they’re the same.
Starting a new work which is set in the Five Kingdoms but almost 200 years before Youngspell. It’s difficult getting back into ‘write mode’ after so long in ‘revise mode.’ But, really, these are the times I get so much into my work that I lose track of time. So in preparation of this, I want to pre-apologize to my family for forgetting dinner and soccer practices and showers and housework and getting dressed and all the other things that get neglected when I’m in ‘write mode.’