Where do you sit?

Last week, I picked up a copy of the Writer’s Digest yearbook issue on novel writing.

Inside is an excerpt, entitled Status Seekers and Storytellers from a book called Fire In Fiction by Donald Maass.

Status seekers: “those whose desire is to be published.”

Storytellers: “those whose passion is to spin stories.”

I read the definitions and how the career of each category of writer might play out. And I asked myself, which am I?

Last year, my desire to write (outside my journal) surfaced yet again. This time I couldn’t –wouldn’t– brush it off. I took a few classes with Ariel Gore and wrote several pieces of which I am proud. I submitted some of those stories out into the real world and received several no’s and one yes.

I keep writing, because I love to write. Like my husband loves to run. He never wins first place in the marathon, but he seaches online for the next race as often as I search online for another opportunity to submit. I’m almost forty. I figure, why not? And I think, what’s a story if no one reads it?

I’m not sure if that makes me a status seeker or a storyteller.

Where ever I sit on that continuum, Donald Maass’s words remind me not to get caught up in the publishing frenzy. They compel me to take it slow, focus on the craft.

Because, as Margaret Atwood says in Negotiating with the Dead, A Writer on Writing:

…Everyone can dig a hole in a cemetery, but not everyone is a grave-digger. The latter takes a good deal more stamina and persistence.

Re-imaging Myself

I bought a new cell phone today.

I shut my old flip phone in the car door a while back. I didn’t kill it completely. I just maimed it a bit. It was tricky. I let it drop in that dark, unreachable space near the seat. Then, I slammed the door.

The outside LED screen morphed from informational to artistic. I never knew who was calling, but I always had an interesting leaf-like blob to view. Still, every time the phone rang I broke out in a sweat. I hated ignoring anyone trying to reach me. But I didn’t like the unknown. I needed caller ID.

So, I walked into the store today and said I’d like a new phone. The saleswoman mentioned I might be eligible for an upgrade.

“Great!” I smiled. Something fancy, I hoped.

I put my phone on her desk. She looked at the phone. She looked at me. She checked the computer.

“Oh, yeah,” she huffed. “You’re definitely eligible.”

I aged several years right then and there. Am I that out of date?

She guided me to the wall of phones. I saw one flip and ignored it completely. I will not be mocked twice, I thought.

I picked a slide.

A sleek, green, cosmopolitan slide. Sort of like the way I feel, minus the green.

They’re good, those cell phone companies. All I needed was a new phone to upgrade my self-image. So smooth. So simple. So 21st century.


Soon to be out.

Alltopia Antholozine will release their Summer/Harvest issue soon. Very soon.

I’m thrilled.

Thrilled my work will be included in this issue.

Thrilled to be invited to the peer group reading and press release.

But Portland is more than a day’s drive from my house. And my favorite airline only goes as far as Seattle, for a pretty penny these days.

So, come the end of August, I’ll be at the press release in spirit only (unless I come into some money real quick). I think I’ll still get dressed up that night. Maybe force my husband to sit down and listen to me read my piece out loud. Give him an autographed copy, for fun.