What We Know or What We Want to Know?

When I was much, much younger, I was told, "Write what you know." 

Today, that would involve battling my mustache... and I'm a woman. It would involve falling asleep at 7:30 at night on the couch, surrounded by a puddle of drool. It would involve daily trying to camouflage my poochy belly.

That's what I know. Does anyone want to read about that stuff?

Probably not.

For a serious discussion of the dilemma I'm currently facing, go check out my post on The Muffin. 

And if you have a suggestion or you know an agent or a publisher (who owes you a big favor), please let me know.

After all, I'm looking for just one yes...

Mired in ???

I feel like I'm stuck in a tar pit. Not that I have an experience with that horror, but I mired in sticky stuff... stuff that's keeping me from moving forward with my writing.

I recently got a rejection in which the agent brought up the #OwnVoices trend. If you're not familiar, that's the movement pushing for books that focus on LGBT characters be written by someone who identifies as LGBT. A book centering on a person of color? That should be written by a person of color.

As I read and contemplate and seek advice, I wonder: can a white person write a novel with a young African American as the main character? More importantly, can they create a nuanced character with respect and authenticity woven in?

In the next couple of months I'll be figuring out my next steps with my manuscript... and hopefully I can pull myself out of this tar pit very soon. 

Poetic Postings Day # 3

Today's prompt involved a list. Some suggestions: 10 things I'd change... 10 things I've learned... 10 things I know to be true.

The one I chose was this:

10 Things I Love

naps on Saturday afternoon

getting together with friends after work
a glass of cold milk
snuggling with my dog
watching a spur-of-the-moment movie with my husband
Tyrion Lannister
falling asleep with a good book in my hands
my students
salt and pepper pistachios
a road trip with a friend

Poetic Postings Day # 2

The best part of me
is underneath
honking and telling
rude drivers
they're number one

The best part of me
is hidden by sarcasm
and snarky remarks
and shrugging off 
the pain

The best part of me
is often misread

The best part of me
is given freely
but rarely accepted

When you see me 
hunched over, writing

When you see me
prodding 
and praising students

When you see me
gush over my granddaughter...

You're seeing my best

Poetic Postings Day # 1

April is here. I've accepted a poetry challenge. A poem. Every. Day. (What have I gotten myself into? ;)

This poem is inspired by my son and daughter-in-law's foster baby. This young man is three months old and was born two months premature... and he's such a doll.

Big brown eyes
Just learning to side-eye

Fingers so incredibly long
and skinny
I just know you'll be a musician
some day

Beautiful skin,
Like milk chocolate
Legs that never quite relax--
Just like  your arms

Two months premature
is way early
You were all chill in
your mama's swimming pool
of a tummy
and
now
you've got to find your way

Someday

Someday you'll grab a handful
of life
(not just my finger)
and this tenuous beginning
will be behind you,
leaving not even a wispy memory

But until someday comes along,
there's today

Slice of Life Day # 31: What is Art... and What is Next?

Yesterday I sat in the Contemporary Art Museum St. Louis for most of the morning. I overlooked a huge sculpture. I'd write. I'd glance up and look across the gallery. I'd write. I'd scan the pieces that were part of the artwork, then I'd chat to a writer friend who sat next to me. I'd write some more.

Here is a view of part of the piece:

Here is another view:

Some people might not think this is truly art. I used to think that, but over the decades, I've changed... been transformed, which I think is such an integral part of art. If it's transforms, if it makes us think or reflect or talk with others... if it's an expression of the artist, it's art (at least in my opinion).

Today is the last slice from me (don't cheer too loudly. I know some of my slices have been sour or bland). Beginning tomorrow I'll be posting a poem every day. We'll see how much inspiration I can whip up for myself on a daily basis.