Lo, a palindrome!* At least, in Germany ~ or ~ A post in which some things go down, and others up
If you've paid any attention to the news, you know that we got some snow this winter. If a certain figment were awake right now, I know I'd hear some snarky comment incorporating superlatives, the mention of understatements and probably the use of a 100-year time-frame. The snow - at long last - is receding, and hopes are high that there will be no more proper storms this season.
Additionally, the big spring conference for NESCBWI - hangon now. come on, you really want to shorten the massive five-syllable organization down to two, don't you you know you do. we can do it together: skib-wee. Skibwee. There you are, not so heard was it? That makes New England SCBWI far more attractive to say - even think! - than not. So go on. Next time you're in friendly SCBWI company, try Skibwee on for size instead.
Man, that tangent is almost enough to wake someone up!
Which, btw, solar lights are once again. The snow has melted enough to expose the bitty solar panels on top again and once again the pale, blue light of garden solar stakes are lining the paths to various neighborhood houses.
As I was saying - third time's a charm. I finally managed to not only sign up for a one-on-one manuscript critique at a SCBWI event, I got the whole damn packet assembled and mailed out in a timely fashion. Granted, via UPS. The UPS guy was familiar with my pain, turns out he'd tried his hand at screenwriting in LA for a few years before returning to Boston.
Also, plastic patio chairs that our neighbors had put out to reserve their shoveled, street-side parking spot that had suddenly vanished after one too many passes by the snow plow are appearing again.
Any burning anxiety I may have felt about getting a slot was stoked by the fact that the NESCBWI listserve was littered with announcements that slots were filling up for picture book and nonfiction manuscripts and that I'm almost certain I didn't include my registration confirmation. I also know that we've pitched FBC submissions for less grievous errors than that in a pointless effort to lessen the Heap O' Stuff the reading committee would have to read and score.
At long last the snow finally melted the one thing one might have thought would be the easy thing to expose - our Christmas tree. At some point between Epiphany and the 10th (aka Tree Disposal Day) it snowed. A lot. The snow plows plowed and the snow blowers blowed. Our Christmas tree waited patiently to be picked up. There was so much snow that 1) trash pick-up was delayed and 2) more snow fell and more plows - well, you get the idea 3) they didn't even attempt to get the tree. Not that I blame them.
But at last, lawn is visible. The grass is pitiful. But there are bulbs popping up! Some, I even planted!
Also, I got a slot.
And so begins my official recommencement of my attempts to not foot-in-mouth my way to a published book (or ten [or more]) and the partial fulfillment of goals that I set at the last writer's retreat with my Griper Gals.
We are now at what we hope will be our "March Retreat" and even though there's still snow in this part of Massachusetts (we're so far west in Massachusetts that I bet there are Yankees fans living next door!) I'm hoping the Muses will be kind.
*because it is 11. 3. 11 in Germany, you see?
Additionally, the big spring conference for NESCBWI - hangon now. come on, you really want to shorten the massive five-syllable organization down to two, don't you you know you do. we can do it together: skib-wee. Skibwee. There you are, not so heard was it? That makes New England SCBWI far more attractive to say - even think! - than not. So go on. Next time you're in friendly SCBWI company, try Skibwee on for size instead.
Man, that tangent is almost enough to wake someone up!
Which, btw, solar lights are once again. The snow has melted enough to expose the bitty solar panels on top again and once again the pale, blue light of garden solar stakes are lining the paths to various neighborhood houses.
As I was saying - third time's a charm. I finally managed to not only sign up for a one-on-one manuscript critique at a SCBWI event, I got the whole damn packet assembled and mailed out in a timely fashion. Granted, via UPS. The UPS guy was familiar with my pain, turns out he'd tried his hand at screenwriting in LA for a few years before returning to Boston.
Also, plastic patio chairs that our neighbors had put out to reserve their shoveled, street-side parking spot that had suddenly vanished after one too many passes by the snow plow are appearing again.
Any burning anxiety I may have felt about getting a slot was stoked by the fact that the NESCBWI listserve was littered with announcements that slots were filling up for picture book and nonfiction manuscripts and that I'm almost certain I didn't include my registration confirmation. I also know that we've pitched FBC submissions for less grievous errors than that in a pointless effort to lessen the Heap O' Stuff the reading committee would have to read and score.
At long last the snow finally melted the one thing one might have thought would be the easy thing to expose - our Christmas tree. At some point between Epiphany and the 10th (aka Tree Disposal Day) it snowed. A lot. The snow plows plowed and the snow blowers blowed. Our Christmas tree waited patiently to be picked up. There was so much snow that 1) trash pick-up was delayed and 2) more snow fell and more plows - well, you get the idea 3) they didn't even attempt to get the tree. Not that I blame them.
But at last, lawn is visible. The grass is pitiful. But there are bulbs popping up! Some, I even planted!
Also, I got a slot.
And so begins my official recommencement of my attempts to not foot-in-mouth my way to a published book (or ten [or more]) and the partial fulfillment of goals that I set at the last writer's retreat with my Griper Gals.
We are now at what we hope will be our "March Retreat" and even though there's still snow in this part of Massachusetts (we're so far west in Massachusetts that I bet there are Yankees fans living next door!) I'm hoping the Muses will be kind.
*because it is 11. 3. 11 in Germany, you see?