What a summer. To be completely honest, the entire year has been a bit of a shit show: when a dead dog and dead aunt are the absolute highlights – and they were, make no mistake about it, both revealing the most beautiful and wondrous things about us humans just when we need it so – it’s not a bad idea to look forward to a change of seasons.
Last spring, right before I killed the dog and began the long slow torturous descent into hospice hell, I had a big plans: write once a week, submit essays all over the interworld, attend conferences, meet people, take classes, share stories worth telling.
Plus, work of course. The RJ (real-job, that actually pays the bills, or some of them).
Right before Penny (the forlorn pooch) went missing, I sketched out an editorial calendar and plugged in topics, contest deadlines, rolling out from March through May. Read650. Connecticut Press Club. Submittable. Duotrope. Gabi’s Writers Rendezvous.
And then life happened. Or lack thereof. Lots of good and lots not-so-good. But we keep moving forward, right? That’s what we’re supposed to do? Somehow?
Back to school time is a great time to begin again, so here I am, at a new beginning. Again.