High Apple Pie Hopes

Several months ago, my friend and fellow writer Mers sent me a myspace link to a writing competition. It was for a PEN Emerging Voices Fellowship(penusa.com) and was designed to help writers who are working on a major project but don't have access to publishers, agents, managers and the like; the kind of access that could change or create a career. We had to be working on a major project ( a novel in my case), fill out a long form and write an essay. I poured my heart into it and completed about 13 pages on a book that was still an idea when I first saw the announcement.

When the call came informing me that I was a finalist, I thought I'd died, gone to heaven, and come back as Oprah Winfrey. The only thing left to do was a 15-minute interview; just a short interview with a few PEN people to "meet and greet," no prep, no rules.

It was on a Saturday and was over so fast I hardly had time to blink. I thought it was just a formality. I had already planned what I was going to wear at the celebration party. So when the thanks but no thanks letter arrived on Monday (how the heck did they get it out that fast???), it was like a really good sucka punch to the gut. I still don't know what I said or didn't say in that few minutes that formed their decision.

I felt twenty pounds heavier as I dragged myself up the stairs to my door.

You see, things that would have rolled off when I was younger (and I know this from many hundreds if not thousands of auditions) aren't as easy to shrug off these days. This wasn't just a little, possible "sumthin sumthin:" This could have changed my life. It could have meant an agent, maybe publishing, maybe a multi-book deal, maybe... Maybe I should stop counting non-existent chickens and use the egg in my hair as a conditioner.

I stopped moaning about what could have been and enjoyed what was: I was a finalist. It wasn't the completion of the journey or even a major stop along the way, but I think it was a darned good step or two up the path.

I'm going in the right direction. Time ain't long as it has been, but I still have some left.

Everything Old

This is the first time I've posted on my new blog. Hello and welcome if you're reading this. I've been journaling for years, but of course, no one can read that but me. Just as well. There are things that y'all don't need to know, but so much more that I want to share.

"Everything old is new again." And that includes me. I feel like I'm back in high school. People look at me and decide what they think I should be. They set my limits by their own limitations, sigh deeply and walk away satisfied. They "know" who I am before I've even opened my mouth. They laugh at me and whisper behind hands if I don't "act right."

Apparently, I'm not doing my 50s correctly. My slowdown isn't slow enough for those who measure such things. My tastes aren't predictable enough. I am different. And, like in high school, those who do not conform often suffer the consequences. Apparently, I'm not supposed to like MTV or VH1. Wildboys shouldn't make me laugh, rap should offend my sensibilities, videogames should confuse me, change should infuriate me. Oops.

But like in high school days, I feel like I'm just starting out. I'm back in school (majoring in Film Studies), I'm trying new things, like furniture recycling. I'm laughing and being silly, craving attention and full of hope and enthusiasm about my future. Yes, at almost 60, I have plans for the future.

Ain't I something! I hope many, many young types will read and respond to this. I'd love to hear what you think.