It has been over six months since my last post. So much has happened since then, and most of it happened so long ago that to talk about it now would be a waste of all our time.
So instead, I want to say hi to everybody who still pops in and reads this page.
Now that we are all reacquainted and I have exchanged pleasantries, I guess it’s time to get back to work.
I’m currently blogging this while Alexis and I are on the final night of our vacation in Arizona. We have been here since Wednesday night and boy, has it been relaxing. Kenway stayed in California with her Nana and Papa. This was Mommy and Daddy’s first time away from her, but let me tell you: it was needed.
Before we left, I received a letter from MiraCosta College (my current institution). I was told that a narrative and a poem that I submitted to the campus literary journal Tidepools have been accepted for publication! After so many years, I am a published writer again.
What’s more, my poem “Morning Quarantine” won an award of some kind and I will be receiving an undisclosed cash prize!
I am…dumbfounded. To say the least. And not even because I won anything. It’s the poem itself that is throwing me for a loop.
You see, I have always wanted to be a science fiction writer. Those of you who have read this blog in the past know this. In fact, I recently broke my long-time, self-afflicted writer’s—no, lazyasses’—block and have multiple stories in the works. And for once, not a single solitary one of them is a crime story! Battling a naughty one-year-old who doesn’t want to sleep at night, I’d just be rocking there and suddenly a story would come to me. Then another. I have had to take a little time off of the fiction to write multiple papers for classes, but once we are back home on Tuesday I am picking them back up. One draft is almost done, and then I will keep going and going. No word count, no page number goals. I’m just going to write and write and write and write until I suddenly have a little inkling of what the hell it is I am trying to do. And then I will repeat said process until I suck, then repeat it yet again until I start making real progress. I realize that I sidetracked away from the topic of my poem, but this seemingly-unrelated rambling does have a point.
I am a fiction writer! I am not a poet! I have no idea what the hell a poem is. I can turn to any random page of a Shakespeare or Robert Frost collection, start reading, and be confused before the end of the first stanza. It’s weird, man. The fact that I was sitting on my ass in my living room one night, likely catching my breath after a busy day of parenting and this poem just comes to me and I write it down and then submit it and it gets published AND wins an award is just bewildering the crap out of me. It’s like I walk across the cul-de-sac to get the mail and a car speeds by me and drops a briefcase full of cash at my feet and then speeds away. The fricker was written almost as fast as that.
I still plan on writing entirely fiction. I have a few haiku in my he works for a school contest, but other than that I do not plan on penning anymore silly little verses. If they come to me, though, they will be written. And submitted.
Until then…stay tuned!