Wanted: My Nerve

My main problem with my pitch for the Sue thing is that I’ve lost my nerve. I just don’t have the “fuck yeah, you want to read this thing I wrote” attitude that one needs to have in order to write the “and here’s why” portion.

And I’m not quite sure how to get it back. But I’m trying a little longer walk in the morning. I’ve got to jolt myself out of this terrible self-doubt, so maybe shake up my routine.

But I’m just bad at this whole side of writing–submitting things, being rejected, and still feeling confident enough in my skills to submit some more.

And yet, the thing is that I want to write things that entertain people. I want people to see my name and look forward to reading what I’ve put there for them. And some day, I want someone to say “I love this manuscript and I want to make it a book.” And I don’t want that someone to have to be me.

A Grand Frolic

The Butcher and I were watching the dog run, well, not run, but um, something that involves him intending to move more quickly through the yard than he can do while trotting, and I was laughing because it is hilarious looking. And the Butcher said, “He doesn’t really run. He more frolics.” Which is somehow the perfect old-fashioned silly term for it. I mean, people, he often stops himself with a face-plant! Last night he was doing some inside frolicking in the kitchen that involved him falling down twice. I was like “Are you okay?” and he just smiled up at me like “Whew, man, this body can do some crazy things.”

Anyway, the question the Butcher had is this–“Even if you couldn’t imagine running a marathon or even wanting to, isn’t there something to the idea of frolicking for twenty-three miles?”