Good morning. I can see magenta flowers, hear twittery and throaty birds. Today’s kind of an administrative day. The book proposal is actually coming along; I got a lot done yesterday thanks to A, my at-a-distance helper/drill sergeant/deadline fairy. But after reading some Anne Lamott (I rebought Bird by Bird just so I could have her with me), I’m wondering if any wildness is coming through or if I’m just telegraphing my fear and that’s all editors will read. Not about the cancer or the poignant struggles but just I’mscaredI’scared thisismyfirstbookI’mscared. Lamott is right, perfectionism is the robber of authenticity. Okay she doesn’t say that exactly, but that’s how it feels. Like I’m trying to squeak out real thoughts in between scared trying to sell myself thoughts. And don’t get me started on the Moviefone voice. Okay, you can.
The Moviefone voice says things in my proposal like, “this ubiquitous, deadly disease that affects nearly 1.5 million Americans a year.” It also uses phrases like “vast majority” and “far-reaching” and “personal journey from illness to remission.” Gag me. Gag him.
Okay, so now I have to find a new spot to stay starting tomorrow. Eep. And write a Breathe thingy.
I saw a Beloit College sticker on a truck the other day when I was buying a Chinese medicine formula my naturopath suggested called Woman’s Treasure. The doors were open so I waited around and then was shocked to see that I actually knew this person! His name is Chris and we worked on the Round Table together about 14 years ago. Crazy. He’s lived here six years. Ah. Maui.
