2009: Trial By Fire

By AC

Dec

So, in many ways, 2009 really really sucked. In 2008, I felt I really worked hard, and at the end of it I was faced with a tough decision: tough it out in Scotland, despite knowing that my money was gone and if I didn’t get a job, the choice would be made anyway, or come home and take responsibility for myself, and have the Lap Band surgery to get my diabetes and weight on track and under control.

Obviously I chose the latter, but it sucked. It sucked that I felt like my Scotland experiment had failed miserably and I couldn’t make it work, and it sucked admitting to myself that I had a serious problem with both my weight and diabetes. It really sucked. And then I moved home, and freelance writing started to fail me; I’ve had serious money problems all year (hasn’t everyone?) and then I started working at a retail job that I don’t love. The road to the Lap Band took so much longer than I thought it would, but it did happen, and once it did, it’s only right now that I’ve been feeling good about it. It has sucked up to this point. It’s been frustrating, awkward, painful.

I’ve been lonely this year, and raw. I feel like I’ve been torn up, torn open, finally facing all of this awful weight stuff, and it’s been really tough. Writing about this stuff for the web has been difficult and cathartic; it’s tough to face down your issues and do it in front of a live audience.

But the past few weeks, it’s definitely felt like this has all been for something, and I hope, as I do every year, that next year is the one where I gain traction. I just want to move forward. I feel like this year, more so than 2008, I really understood what hard work meant, and how much more intense, frustrating and ultimately rewarding it is when it’s so deeply personal. I got my blood sugar (somewhat temporarily) under control, I have lost a total of 40 pounds (more like forty five by my home scale, but I’m trying to go with the doctor’s scale), and I did squeak a completed novel in under the wire.

So this last week or so has been a tremdendous week, and it does mean that I’ll be starting 2010 on a positive note, but this year has been toooough. Definitely the year of trial by fire. How was your year?

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I Used to Be JobDrunk

By AC

Sep

Okay, that title doesn’t make much sense, but I have that “I used to be love drunk” song stuck in my head and the feeling pretty much describes how I’m feeling now.

I’m sick of freelancing because of its lack of any kind of security, terrible pay, and for some things, I write crap. I really do. I mean, Demand Studios? How crappy can you get? Granted, I hardly ever write for them any more and when I do I feel cheap.

That’s the thing–freelancing makes me think my gifts are worth very little money. Not to be obnoxious, but I think I’m a good writer. I’ve worked very hard at it and if I wasn’t halfway decent by now, I’d have a problem. But I think it’s very tough to get paid what you’re worth in this business.

However, I’m also going through major life changes coming up, and I want that flexibility that freelancing lets me have. I can write whenever, shift things around for doctor’s appointments, and go to the gym at any time of the day.

But because of that, I’m trading in benefits like health insurance and paid sick time and vacation. I mean, for the two weeks that I won’t be working post-surgery, I’ll be making nothing. Not a dime.

All this has made me sit down and think. I’ve been perusing and occasionally applying for retail positions, with the thought that it will just be something to do. Something that gives me cash, benefits, and I can keep my writing on my dedicated time and that’s good enough.

But then I started thinking; it’s not like I’m a woman of a single passion. There are lots of things I’m passionate about. What have I wanted to do other than writing novels? Isn’t there anything I’m interested in learning about?

Of course there is! I’m interested in Public Relations jobs. I like the idea of not quite salesy marketing, but connecting people with interested parties. It feels like a good-karma kind of job. I also have wanted to write for magazines for a while now, but it keeps getting over thrown for other, more present work. So maybe I should be making more of a push to try and go for the things I like.

Or maybe I’ll just slug along, because I used to be job drunk, but now I’m hungover…

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Let’s See How Far We’ve Come

By AC

Aug

I’m turning 25 in November, and while that is a good deal away, this milestone has been bearing down on me for the past six months, and not because I give a damn about getting older, but I feel like I haven’t accomplished much, which leads me wonder if I’ve wasted time–my ultimate antigoal (is antigoal a word? It so should be). I’m in a long delayed, drawn out field for the sheer love of it, and it’s not like I’m earning much money or advancing quickly in the ranks. I don’t have a significant relationship or a child.

Last night, I was looking for something to thumb through while I went to bed, and amidst sloping piles of notebooks that I’ve been trying to organize (unsuccessfully; I’ve accepted that my life tilts toward chaos in books), I found my senior thesis (we called it a dissertation in the UK, but American’s would call it a thesis). It was a creative writing project, and I wrote a short story called “The Tournament”. I loved it. And I loved reading it again. In the back I had to write an explanatory essay and I remembered the whole process, beginning to end, and I loved it. Something that I struck on in the essay was that this thesis was the culmination of my undergraduate career because it was the beginning of my professional career; this was my life long passion, this was my purpose.

At the time, it was a revelation. I never thought that I could make money as a writer and I knew I was choosing something against the grain and unpopular, but I wanted it more than anything, and I became (slowly) convinced that I had no business doing anything else other than writing. So this thesis was like my statement of purpose, my chosen path for the rest of my life.

For better or for worse (really, at the moment, it’s looking toward worse) I’m in this industry. I’m not published but I don’t have much of a choice; I know what I want and I don’t have it in me to give it up now. That’s not what I’m made of. And somehow I think that girl two years ago would be thrilled to know that, even if she was aware that (contrary to her staunch beliefs) she wouldn’t be published yet.

It makes me wonder if the real success here is simply not giving up. Of course, that’s not the success I want–I will always aspire for more. I found something that I love (an extraordinary stroke of luck in and of itself) and I’ve had the (occasionally shaky) resources to follow that. I’ve had the determination to follow that. Even if it’s not the best of circumstances, I’m Tim Gunn-ing it. I’m making it work. I think there’s a purity of purpose now that I won’t always have, and for the moment, I’m appreciating it.

This could all also be because it finally feels like the heat broke a little, and the morning was chilly and cool. Which means FALL IS COMING!!!!!!!!!!

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Why Virgil Was Wrong

By AC

Aug

Audaces Fortuna Iuvat.

Fortune favors the bold.

Virgil was totally and completely wrong. Fortune doesn’t just favor the bold, fortune, and the writing business, favors the unbelievably persistent.

The agent that I was dealing with for the past six months passed on my manuscript today, after revisions, after a lot of back and forth, and after holding exclusivity for the entire six month period. Here’s what I know about this now:

1. Don’t give exclusivity. Almost immediately after agreeing to the exclusivity, several other agents expressed interest, and I felt like I was only hurting my chances at getting published, and had the agent not passed I would have felt very wonky about signing with her having not given the other interested agents at least a fair shake.

2. I think it really is important to get an agent that gets your work. This agent was awesome–we worked very productively together, a chemistry I would like to find again with another agent, but within my novel is a careful balance between a glitzy, glamorous world of fashion and brand names and the dark, upsetting element of sexual abuse. She didn’t believe that balance could coexist, which is what the novel is predicated on, so we weren’t going to get much further in any event.

3. I still have other agents that are hopefully still interested in looking at the novel, despite the intervening time, and I’ll send it to both of them at the same time and hopefully one of them will be interested in committing to it.

4. Naturally my fear is that the floor will fall out and not one of these agents will be interested, and sadly, that really may happen. I’ve known for a long time that it will be a hellishly long road to get published, but it seems that the whole deal is not about how bold I am, but about how persistent I will be.

And I will be persistent. Hear that, world? You’re not done with me yet. All in all, it takes me about as long to shop a novel around the industry and virtually exhaust my options as it does to write a novel, so if, God forbid, Tarian skids into deadsville, then by that time I’ll be ready to try another go-round with Arianna. I’m not giving up.

I’m over getting old
Maybe it’s not my weekend but it’s gonna be my year
And I’m so sick of watching while the minutes pass as I go nowhere
And this is my reaction to everything I fear
‘Cause I’ve been going crazy
I don’t want to waste another minute here