nomada: (Default)
[personal profile] nomada
So, I had mommy drama today. Maybe my very first! The kids were dying Easter eggs today, and anothr mommy sent her son in with 12 twelve boiled eggs and instructions that no one else should be allowed to dye his eggs or take them home. This did not go over well with the other kids, and pissed off the mom who hosts the playgroup. Enter drama.

And to think I was worried I'd feel isolated here. My mom promised me that having little kids makes it easy to meet people, and she was right. Not always people one wants to meet, I admit, but any port in a storm.

Oh, and news! I am having a story published in a literary magazine. Not a prestigious magazine, but a real live hard copy magazine that will pay me! I am embrassingly excited. As I did the edits they requested, I was repeatedly struck by how bad this story is and what a miracle it's that anyone wants to publish it. Perhaps just familiarity bredding contempt? I hope so.

(no subject)

Date: 2009-04-10 10:26 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
12 eggs? A little bit of an overkill, surely!

Yay story being published! Congrats! I think you're always harsher on your work, too.

(no subject)

Date: 2009-04-10 11:02 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
It wasn't so much the number of eggs as the fact he came to play school with explicit instructions not to share. I mean, who teaches that to a little kid?

I hope I am being irrationally harsh. But damn, I could hardly stand to read it.

(no subject)

Date: 2009-04-10 11:35 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
That was me. Forgot to log in.

(no subject)

Date: 2009-04-10 12:20 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
No worries, I guessed it was. :)

The not-sharing is quite depressing. :( I think the number makes it worse, in a way--this little kid has so many eggs, but he still has to jealously guard them from other people. You're right, what kind of a message is that to teach your kid?

(no subject)

Date: 2009-04-10 10:41 am (UTC)
ext_3751: (Default)
From: [identity profile]
Over to Chekhov. The writer, not 'Good morning, Keptin," Chekhov.

NINA. But don't your inspiration and the act of creation give you moments of lofty happiness?

TRIGORIN. Yes. Writing is a pleasure to me, and so is reading the proofs, but no sooner does a book leave the press than it becomes odious to me; it is not what I meant it to be; I made a mistake to write it at all; I am provoked and discouraged. Then the public reads it and says: "Yes, it is clever and pretty, but not nearly as good as Tolstoi," or "It is a lovely thing, but not as good as Turgenieff's 'Fathers and Sons,' " and so it will always be. To my dying day I shall hear people say: "Clever and pretty; clever and pretty," and nothing more; and when I am gone, those that knew me will say as they pass my grave: "Here lies Trigorin, a clever writer, but he was not as good as Turgenieff."

NINA. You must excuse me, but I decline to understand what you are talking about. The fact is, you have been spoilt by your success.

TRIGORIN. What success have I had? I have never pleased myself; as a writer, I do not like myself at all.

(no subject)

Date: 2009-04-10 11:37 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
I shall cling to that. The story is just so BAD, though. Florid and overwritten and self-indulgent.

(no subject)

Date: 2009-04-10 11:48 am (UTC)
ext_3751: (Default)
From: [identity profile]
As opposed to, eg, the tautly-written and sparsely elegant Harry Potter?

I am quite sure you're being too hard on yourself. And even if it's not perfect - yay, you, published writer!!


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