In an effort to create a brilliant piece of literary fiction for the Playboy Fiction writing contest, I may have committed the greatest writing faux pas of all. I wrote something that could potentially border on creative non-fiction. Maybe not even good non-fiction.
It wasn’t until today, after coming home from my heinous “real” job that I realized it. My baby, my first literary work, is out there in the world waiting to be judged, potentially to be found wanting. It might suck. I don’t dare read it again, I’ll just second guess myself some more. The horror! My poor baby, out there in the harsh world alone!!!
The good thing and the bad thing, in this case, are one and the same. I don’t have to know what the judges think of my piece. I don’t even get any criticism of any kind. So, if they think it’s garbage, I don’t ever need to know. If they think it needs serious work, I’ll never know exactly what it needs. On top of all that, I now get to try to submit something for the next round of contests, all ending in 10 days.
And I still have to have a real job.
Between Valentine’s Day, work, my interviews, contest submission, blog, exercise regimen, relationship and multiple friendships I’m exhausted. I would kill for just one night to sit, and relax with a glass of wine, and not worry about all the things I haven’t done, still need to do, or what I forgot to do. Maybe read one of the three books I borrowed from the library that are now late and covered in dust. At some point, I should probably work on kicking my chocolate addiction too, but let’s face it, there’s no way I’d make it through this week without chocolate. I now know exactly how single mothers with full times jobs feel. Ughh.
I still maintain that all this would be so much easier to juggle in 30 degree heat. No coats, no constant debilitating cold, no scraping windshields , no moving my car at 7 am because the roads are getting scrapped. No more worrying that the check engine light that’s currently lighting my bunny-car’s dash is going to do something drastic on the coldest day of the year. In the summer, if your car conks out, what do you do? You walk. Boom simplicity at its best. In the winter, when your car conks out, what do you do? You crank up the heat, call everyone in your phone and cryyyyy like a baby until someone rescues you. I’m just kidding. But still, everything is better when its warm.
Yup, this is exactly how single mothers feel.