Since finishing the personal essay class that I had been in since June, I have had a reinvigorated desire to write. I have submitted two of the personal essays I wrote in the class. One was submitted to a publication called “Blood & Pudding”. They had a call out for submissions related to mental health. I paid an extra fee for an expedited answer. I didn’t pay for a 24 hour response, but rather, two weeks. I submitted last Monday so I should know something soon. I have been rejected by them before, so I’m skeptical, but at the same time, this class has made me hopeful.
I also submitted the essay that the instructor said was “compelling”. She had very high praise for it and had very few suggestions for improvement to offer. That one I entered in the Writer’s Digest Personal Essay contest. There are 25 winners ranging from the grand prize all the way down to 25th place. I’ve also entered this contest before, with little hope that I would actually win. This time, while I certainly don’t think I’ll win the grand prize, I’m hopeful for winning something. I’d be happy with 25th place. Those results won’t come out until December though.
That’s all I’ve entered so far. I’m taking my time with other submissions. I want to see how these new pieces do out in the wild before I send them elsewhere.
In the meantime, I have returned to writing my book. Now that I know the ins and outs of writing a personal essay, my book is basically going to either be one big personal essay, or several essays depending on how I format it with all these journal entries.
With that said, I’ve gone back to transcribing my journals. I refuse to go any further with the writing until all of the marked passages are documented on a Google Doc. Today, I finished volume 8 and pulled volume 9 off the shelf. Remember, there are 40+ volumes to get through. Or less, depending on when I want to cut off the entries for inclusion.
I thought I’d share with you my writing space. This morning, I sat in the room Josh and I recently converted into our “creative space”. I sat at the desk with my computer plugged into the big monitor. I turned on my lava lamp and my Bluetooth speaker. I put on my “high school nostalgia” playlist and immersed myself in 16 year-old Sarah’s summer of ‘98.
For a while, I was irritated that Josh kept leaving his fishing stuff all over the desk. He’s not as organized as I am. I like having a clean, organized space for working/crafting/writing, whatever I’m doing there. But today, all I did was make a little room for my mouse, my speaker, and a place to put my journal.
I’m not upset by the packages of fish hooks and other accoutrements he uses to prepare his reels. This is his space too. Besides, when we get our third bedroom cleared out and functional, I plan to take his mom’s old secretary’s desk out of the attic and use it for my writing.
It’s similar to this one from Pottery Barn:
Except it’s older and has more of an antique look to it. Plus it’s not $1,799 at a store that Phoebe from Friends would have an objection to.
Until then, the desk I share with Josh will be just fine. I’ve got plenty of time anyway to clean out that room and set up my new desk area. Thirty one volumes of time left to be exact.
Want to help me accomplish my dream of being a paid writer? Buy me a coffee!
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