Decisions, decisions...
Write paranormal smut...label new lunchboxes, backpacks, jackets, and sneakers for the spawns' first day of school...or drown in a thick, black sludge of impotent fury and heartsick grief...?
Hmmm...
I am, again, writing and editing down to the last second of a deadline. Bad habit, I know. If only I'd let things age/marinate/stew in their own juices a bit, I'd likely find them much improved when it comes time to send them out into the world. But an adrenaline junky I am, and always shall be. The upside, of course, is that I'll find out fairly quickly after submitting my story whether or not it's been accepted--unlike those well-organized, well-modulated souls who got their entries in within a week or two and have been waiting ever since. Me? Not so good with the waiting. I suspect I'd make a bitter, profane, and ungracious refugee. Which is maybe why I can relate to the angry faces I see on my TV screen.
I'm sure I'll be up and wielding my black Sharpie marker on those lunchboxes at five tomorrow morning, after writing till midnight to make my deadline, with CNN on in the background, telling me about the many Gulf Coast residents who continue to suffer and die. It's a very weird place, where I am--trying to concentrate on infusing a story with the right amount of sexual tension, whilst counting out No. 2 pencils and lacing up new Nikes, and trying not to let my sick rage overwhelm suck me down.
This would be the place to post links to where folks can contribute, donate, work for the common cause...but you know what? You've already seen them. Chances are excellent that you--like me and everybody else with a conscience and half a working heart--have already given what you can, and plan to give more WHEN you can.
God bless the givers. And God bless those who wait in the dark, hanging on to the hope of a better day, for they are stronger than I would be in the same circumstance.
5Comments:
You are a better woman than I. I passed on the deadline, but the house and kids are organized. :(
The truth is that I didn't think my story was scary. Creepy, yes, paranormal, definately. Scary? No. I'm still writing, but plan on submitting it as a para when it's done. I do wish I had something to put in, but the scariest things get with me are the face in the mirror in the morning. :P
Heh. I suspect my husband would rather have the organized house and children than the submitted story. In fact, I KNOW it. For a fact.
As for "scary" versus "creepy," I'm less worried about that than "is the sexual tension in the first three-quarters strong enough to justify the 'big bang-bang' in the last quarter?" It's damned hard to mix surreal horror imagery and explicit sexual imagery that's intended to arouse with anything like grace and nuance. I have no clue whether or not I pulled it off.
We shall see.
Man, I know what you're talking about. But now that they're back in school, it's not so bad. But getting ready for four of them to head back was too much to compete with. And I had to stop watching the news. It was too depressing for me to handle. As much as I wish I was published and would kill for a deadline (that would mean I sold something!) I'm thankful I didn't have added stress like that during the "get their butts back in school" time.
Well if he's bent, he'll get over it. My husband USED to be anal. Then the 5th kid came and he gave up the war. Housework is is always there. Always. The deadline is not.And no one died from a sink full of dishes or a pile of laundry.
Damn, I hope you get in for the shivers. I soo want to read that story from your description. I cannot do horror.
You put it well, thank you.
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