Well if my upcoming birthday isn’t depressing enough (really, I used to get excited for this, not so much anymore), now my crowdfunding efforts to support my attendance at the May 2-3 fiction writing seminar is not catching much action. I am so grateful for my 3 funders, and yet I feel deflated that not more peeps are supporting me. Should I be surprised? I guess not. Am I allowed to be a tiny bit bummed? Okay, a little.
Honestly, I hate pitching myself (but give me a fictional character and I’ll talk your freakin’ ear off, seriously, I won’t shut up and your ear will fall off, but it will be artistic and inspiring as it happens). I don’t want to be a salesperson, I don’t want to have to promote myself and tell people I’m worth it, that’s just not me. But, it is my job to continue to develop as a writer and if I don’t promote myself who will?
So I’m going for it, but it’s (omgee, omgeee) scary. I kind of love-hate it. It’s like asking out a boy at school, you know what I’m talking about…the handwritten note folded up and passed from friend to friend all the way over to the kid across the room who you don’t know if he’s been making eyes at you or the girl behind you and you’re risking it all on this one small effort, this one attempt to be confident and bold and daring!!!!
And then he opens it, the handwritten note that says “I like you. Do you like me back? Circle yes or no.”
And he looks around. Notices you noticing him. Everyone is waiting to find out what he’s going to do. He doesn’t do anything. He just crumples it up and throws it in the trash can in the corner. It bounces off and the teacher goes and picks it up. Un-crumples it. Reads it (gulp) aloud in front of the class.
“Well?” she asks. We look at her, not sure what to do. None of us.
“It’s very rude to leave a question unanswered” she says.
“It was her!” that bitch points at me, you know the one I’m talking about. The girl who always tattles on everybody. Yea, the one with the curly hair and strappy shoes. You know her.
And so, there I go marching up to the front of the class to write on the board that I am a loser (not in so many words, but I was used to getting busted for passing notes so I already knew what I had to write)…”I will not pass notes”.
“Oh no, you’re not getting away that easy this time,” she says, yanking the chalk from my hand.
The class follows up with their typical, “Oooohhhhh.”
“You are going to write a fifty page report examining how your distractions adversely affect other students in this classroom.”
And there you have it. How I began my writing career.
And that is also how random blog posts are born. (Shh, don’t tell the kids!)
Want to help me get high again? (Oh stop, you know what I mean!!! LOOK at the blog post title!) Check out my crowdfunding page for Novel Writing Seminar with Tod Goldberg and chip in, if you feel so inclined (see, I’m terrible at this whole self-promotion, sales stuff…also why I will never receive all the reimbursements from the kids soccer team for the banner I ordered, I just hate asking people for money).