Happy New Year, Fringelings!
I was looking for an appropriate quote to inspire me for the coming year–or at least inspire me for a New Year’s post, and I found this:
“Do what you can, with what you have, where you are.”–Theodore Roosevelt
I think that’s what I did over the course of 2013. Not a banner year, but hell, those don’t really exist for those of us on the fringe, do they? Still, not a bad year. Bad moments, scary moments, disappointments? Oh yes, plenty of those. But also some lovely moments, and I find myself further along on the path of acceptance, a là Theodore Roosevelt. I did what I could with what I had, where I was.
I wrote. I wrote and I wrote and I wrote. I wrote a few new short stories, two of which I’m pleased with. I held my breath and closed my eyes and posted one of my stories for all to see here on Mrs Fringe. I finished a WIP, Wanna Bees. I edited, I revised. I wrote a query letter for it, and did some half-hearted querying of it. It’s a light, romancey magical realism/urban fantasyish piece. I participated in a twitter pitch contest with it. Lesson learned, twitter pitching is not for me. And then I stopped querying it. Another lesson learned. I want to be that light hearted, romancey love conquers all woman who believes I can and will have it all. But I’m not. I’m a quirky old gal who will do anything for the people I love, adores each of my children so much it makes my heart ache, prone to the blues when I don’t get enough sunlight, with a tendency to think too much while wondering why, how can it be, and what if.
I want to write what (I think, I hope) I’m best at. So I put Wanna Bees to the side, and began a new WIP: Astonishing. I wish I had the magical combination of freedom, discipline, and a decent night’s sleep every night to produce a reasonable word count every single day. But I don’t. I’m more than 3/4 of the way through the first draft, and at the moment, I’m stuck. Pondering, as my friend Buzzie says. I swing between thinking I’ve really got something here and being convinced this is the suckiest suckage I’ve ever committed to paper (or keyboard) and I’m completely delusional to think any agent will ever be interested, let alone a publisher willing to put money towards it. Literary fiction, for God’s sake–something a good number of people don’t believe is a real thing, and assume anything categorized as such is code for pretentious, bloated, navel gazing prose. Still, I haven’t given up, and don’t plan to. A few people I respect and value who’ve seen excerpts have been very encouraging. They like it. Ask if it’s finished–because they want to read the rest. Completely cool, and completely terrifying.
I kept blogging, through times when necessity dictated more sporadic posts, I doubted anyone was reading, doubted whether any of my words should be out in cyberspace. Through Mrs Fringe I raged, I railed, I giggled. I’m glad I did, I’m glad you’re here, and have no plans to stop blathering any time soon. I made and deepened several friendships through blogging and through the writer’s forum.
All three of my kiddos are doing well. Moments of breath holding, nerves, fear, yup. But no out and out medical crises this year for them or Husband, woot!!
I will never be happy living hand to mouth in a cramped apartment, will never stop dreaming of a beach house, will never be blasé when faced with a mountain of medical bills, will never stop wishing I could do more and be more for my kids, will never stop wishing I could be more productive with the hours in my day, will never stop questioning the worth of myself and my words without the validation of a dollar; will keep dreaming of a dishwasher, a yard and garden, my own washer and dryer, a pert nose and perky boobs. But somehow in the year 2013, I did what I could, with what I had, where I am.
I hope to say the same in 2014, and I wish the same for all of you; my followers, my Fringelings, my friends.