The Pyrenees---Southern France

The Pyrenees---Southern France

Thursday, October 6, 2011

It's Thursday TMA (The Morning After)

      Lately, a couple of times a month, I binge on Wednesday nights. I get wildly drunk. I revel. I carouse.

      Of course, since one glass of wine loosens my tongue to the point of embarrassment (mine) and amusement (everyone else), I'm not talkin' 'bout booze. Since my after-hours life is so pathetically sucky, the level of the revel is not too high.* And since I'm so menopausally and sleep apnea-sleep deprived, the carousing is not too late ("Yikes! It's quarter after 9!") nor does it ever result in a call to the police. (However, there's always that frozen leg of lamb or the wood chipper...that just might end up getting the cops' attention!)

     A couple of Wednesdays a month, I meet with a group of wild women with pens. The laughter, the kinship, the sharp barbs...that's the whipped cream, because why we're really there is to hone our writing ability and increase our submissions.

Here are a few things I've learned so far from my "chicka peeps":

  • When you're tempted to wait for a friend to get out of their car so you can knock on the door together, and the friend has a bunch of flowers in hand (and your hands are empty), race to the door, and make sure you make your own entrance. That way, your lack of thoughtfulness will not be so evident. 
  • Looks can be deceiving. Sometimes women can be thin, young, cute and talented in the area of writing. They can also be genuinely wonderful people.  It doesn't happen very often, but when it does, I've found I like them in spite of it.
  • When faced with self doubt...when you get a rejection letter...when you're worried your writing sucks...Think WWSD.
          What would Sioux do?  Sioux would say, "_____   _____." (It's one of her favorite phrases.) It just tears and wears you down if you obsess over the opinion of others. Work your craft. Let your talent shine. And let doubt fall to the wayside.

      What charges your battery? Who are your "chicka peeps" (or your "scratch and sniff pals," if you're of the male persuasion?) What snappy comeback do you give--at least in your mind--when you get rejected? Inquiring minds want to know... 

         (How did I do, Hope?)

* Although my husband got us tickets to see John Prine in December, and I'm shrieking with delight. Shay, eat your heart out.