ZEN AND THE ART OF DOIN' IT DOGGY STYLE

Watching my dog, Violet, today in an encounter with a beach ball, I vowed to myself to try to be—to live, to think, to write—more like my dog (not that my dog writes, mind you). What I mean to say is that she, as well as my cats, are like children in their sense of wonder. Only they never grow up and lose their wonder. They are forever children in awe of everything. The world is a constant sorce of fascination to them. It is often scary and confusing too, but then, so it is to me, more often than not. I’m not saying I wish to be a simpleton, though I might be happier if I was. Actually, I almost assuredly would be happier. But if I could just try to concentrate a little less on what is scary and confusing, and a little more on what is wondrous, beautiful, funny, and amazing, I might be a happier person, and who knows, maybe even a better writer. Not that I want to be warm and fuzzy, but then there’s little chance of that. You won’t catch me reading Chicken Soup for the Soul any time soon. I’m naturally negative, but I go online or, in a moment of weakness and boredom, turn on the TV, and everyone is bitching about something. Just who does that Britney Spears think she is, or some shit I couldn’t care less about, but the negative energy abounds. And it’s definitely contagious. I’m as snarky as the next gal, and even snarkier than the one after that, which is why I have to make a real effort to enjoy myself. Always look on the bright side of life, as my boys say. Keep on whistling.

What would we do without these furry little jesters? (Pets, that is, not Monty Python.) Or are they really wise men—er, women—that is, animals. People without pets genuinely concern me. I wouldn’t want to turn my back on someone like that for too long. So yes, you will definitely catch me pissing and moaning in my blog or anywhere else I’m allowed, but I’m trying to be a bit more, let’s say, less negative. You’re sure as hell not going to hear me touting the power of positive thinking, or any crap like that. But most people could stand to be more like their dog or cat, unless it bites. Or poops on the floor.

Just read more Shel Silverstein and like he said:

Put something silly in the world
That ain’t been there before.

I couldn’t have said it better myself. (Maybe that’s why he’s the one with all the books.)

A WORD OF ADVICE TOO MANY

I’ve been catching up on my reading today. I’ve looked at several magazines and websites, all about writing, and they all have, more or less, the same content—advice. The advice they offer is different, but the pitch is all the same—Read this, and you’ll get published. Even the most respectable publications are guilty of this blatant appeal to writers’ frustration and desperation. Anyone and everyone who has ever had a word in print (and some who haven’t?) feel they have the authority to offer advice in this area. And why shouldn’t they, because they know people will read it. Yes, it’s good to hear, or read, the voice of experience. We should never be so proud or think we know too much to take advice, especially from those who really are in the know. But there’s just so much of it. If one were to actually listen to every Never do this or You must always do that, a writer wanting to “break through” would never even attempt it. We all know that there are exceptions to most every rule, and, of course, it does help to at least know the most important rules, but the cacophony of voices out there giving their expertise is deafening. It can make one feel like, I can never meet all these so-called requirements, so why bother? Well, I too have a piece of advice for all you writers out there: Stop trying to heed everyone’s advice already. Except mine, of course.

TO ALL THE EDITORS I'VE LOVED BEFORE...

A few days ago, I submitted a short piece to Tiny Lights and received almost immediately a very pleasant email from the editor, Susan Bono. Needless to say, this kind of thing is so out of the ordinary that I felt it warranted a comment.

I’m sure all of us writers have had encounters with editors who are less than courteous or professional. Years ago I submitted work to a journal. I don’t remember now the name, but I don’t think it exists anymore. I got a letter from the editor in which he said no thank you to my submission and in the very next sentence let me know that I could become a better writer if I just read his instructional book which I could purchase directly from him for a reasonable price. (Oh no he didn’t) Oh yes he did.

And then there are those editors who accept your piece as long as you don’t mind a few minor revisions, i.e. letting them rewrite it to read exactly as if they had written it themselves. But my intention today was not to rail against those kind of editors, few that they are, but to celebrate those we appreciate.

By the way, I should also mention that the editor at GUD was very sweet about the ftp server thing.

So to all the editors who treat us writers like human beings, thank you. We appreciate it. And I for one will try to return the favor. We know your jobs are hard, and we know that you know ours is too, since most of you are writers yourselves.

Just as it pays for writers not to insult editors for rejecting their work if they ever hope to get published, it also pays for editors to be respectful of writers, even if they don’t respect their work, especially for small publications. If you treat writers with courtesy, they will be loyal to you and your publication. See, here I am plugging Tiny Lights. Not that droves of people are reading this. But that ‘s not the point. The point is, well, thank you. That’s all.

ON THE NATURE OF BLOGGING

I’ve been thinking about this, to me, still strange phenomenon of blogging. The idea of writing every day for an audience is a bit daunting. I’m fairly used to writing daily, since I’ve kept a journal for years, though sometimes sporadically. But then that was private writing. Yes, sometimes something would come out that I found I could put to use later somewhere else, but there wasn’t the pressure to entertain, inform, or in some way benefit or interest in any way an audience. Not that I have more than one or two in said audience at the moment. And I have written daily on something that was meant to ultimately be read—ultimately being the operative word. Not today, but someday. After many revisions. So is blogging really anything more than, as I have suggested before, self-involved rambling? I certainly don’t think anyone would call it literature, but can it be edifying, either to reader or writer? I am still discovering the nature of this beast.

ON FINDING FREELANCE WORK

After spending all day today glued to my laptop, I think I have already discovered the biggest pitfall of attempting to start a freelance writing (not creative writing) career. It isn’t not being able to find jobs. It’s finding too many. One can get so easily lost in the maze of the internet, surfing link to promising link until stopping to look around and realizing you’ve wondered way off course and have no idea where you are, where you were, and where to go next. At first one is encouraged by the number of opportunities out there, then a bit confused, then completely overwhelmed. And the more jobs I looked at, the more my confidence waned, until I was convinced that I am woefully unqualified to write about anything whatsoever. So I had to check my compulsion and vow to try again tomorrow. But I think the only way to go about it and still retain some semblance of sanity (such as it is) is to pick one website, just one, and look through the listings for that day AND THAT DAY ONLY, and if I find something that I might be able to con the employer into believing I’m qualified for, great. If not, there’s always tomorrow. And tomorrow. And tomorrow. Otherwise I’ll just become one of those people who is a full-time searcher-for-work (Haven’t we all dated this guy before?) instead of a full-time worker.

ON PUBLISHEE'S GUILT

I am still in the stage of my “career”—if you can call it that—as a writer and photographer where I don’t yet have enough publications to feel completely deserving of being published and wonder how exactly it happened. I still feel like a bit of a fraud that is going to be found out at any minute. I received an email from one of the editors at Greatest Uncommon Denominator, which will be publishing one of my photographs in the fall, requesting my formatted submission be uploaded to their “ftp.” I didn’t even know what this was and had to write her back asking her to explain it. Of course I thought, now she’s going to think I’m an idiot and know that I’m new at this and don’t know what the hell I’m doing, and she’ll decide that I’m not worth the time and wonder why she ever gave me the opportunity in the first place because I clearly don’t deserve it. Or something to that effect. A tad extreme, yes. And it was only a fleeting thought, but it was there, just the same. But I had to tell myself that she didn’t choose to publish my work because she felt sorry for me, or because that was her act of goodwill for the day. The truth of the matter is, she chose it because she thought it was good. Not just good, but better, even, (at least for their magazine and for that particular issue) than all the other submissions they received and didn’t choose for that round of submissions. Then even I had to admit that that was pretty good.

I have a sneaking suspicion that I could rack up hundreds of submissions and still never quite feel like I was completely deserving, never quite shake the feeling of being a fraud. But at least I know that even real writers, like David Rakoff (Fraud), admit feeling this way. But I think it will get a little better with each publication under my belt. I just have to keep reminding myself:

I’m good enough. I’m smart enough. And doggone-it, people like me.

Well.. I’m good enough and smart enough anyway.

DAY ONE: BIRTH OF A BLOG

As wary as I am of change, I have finally given in and decided to start a blog after reading (on another writer’s blog) comment after comment from writers on how useful, even indispensable, a blog can be to a writer. Yes, it still seems to me the height of narcissism, but then, self-obsession has always been one of my more endearing qualities.

I don’t have a specific focus. I suppose I will talk about whatever is plaguing my mind at the time, but I will make every effort to see that it doesn’t turn into a “Dear diary…” sort of thing.

Happy reading.