Holy Shirtballs, Batman! My poetry manuscript, “Waxing the Parasitical Muse,” has been longlisted for the Idaho Prize for Poetry 2025 by Lost Horse Press!

There. I said it. I didn’t win, but I was longlisted! 

After last night, after feeling like I should just yeet my laptop across the room and give up writing forever, after thinking I cannot, maybe should not, write anymore.

After today, when I came home from the author event where I wasn’t the first one jumping in to give a young writer my business card to send me his writing because for once Word Raccoon was there to protect me and say in my ear “You know we don’t do horror, love.” 

After sitting in my blue chair, not even feeling up to the porch at first, just exhausted, relieved to be home, disappointed in myself a bit that I wasn’t in performance mode but also relieved that I was just…me today. 

There were…challenges on multiple fronts. Let’s leave it at that. 

But there were quiet joys: catching up with my former roommate who happens to live in town, though I only see her once in a while. Getting my photo taken with the school mascot. The warmth and kindness with which I was met. Meeting other authors. Free cookies and swag. Artwork. 

Then, as I said, I came home and sank into my chair, exhausted. My plan was to doomscroll while listening to Nirvana and take a nap. 

I checked my email. I received an update from The Idaho Prize for Poetry saying that their 2025 contest was over. Which I took to mean, “This is a courtesy. You didn’t win a damn thing.” 

That felt like today’s energy, honestly. 

But because I have poet friends, I decided to go and find the names of the other prize winners so I could see if I knew anyone. (And probably to rub salt in my own wounds because that’s how I feel today.) 

I saw the winner, uh huh. Scrolled down through the shortlist, laughed when I saw the word “dreaming” in a title because that’s close to my name and I thought, “Hope averted. My damn life.” 

But then I kept scrolling. 

Well, see for yourself.

If they notified me of being longlisted, I missed it. At any rate, I am so honored and pleased. 

I’m shocked. 

Waxing the Parasitical Muse has yet to find its permanent home, and you might remember that it also has a second name: sometimes it is Intellectual Domme Energy, which honestly feels much stronger a title than I am feeling today. 

At least now I have hopes that it might find a home in due time. In the meantime, I am just so happy to be in the company of such fantastic poets.

Word Raccoon is handfeeding me gingersnaps (she found my stash) and potato chips and calling it dinner. The porch swing is looking cozy. I’m still listening to Katabasis. 

I’m in that liminal space between writing and not, between fear of writing and fear of not writing. 

Anyone have a writing prompt? I could give it a try. 

No?

Nevermind.

(See what I did there? #Nirvana)