Dear Reader,
It’s funny how tasks that seem small can swallow a morning. Word Raccoon says I’m not being fair, because I had a morning’s worth of activities before morning even broke, or so it seemed. But she knows what I mean.
We were entering our chapbook, God Blinked, in a contest that closes today (yes, I wish WR would be more prompt, but…do poets have trouble getting our shizz together? Some days, sure.)
Usually, WR and I could have whipped that submission up and gotten it out in no time. But somehow, time slowed. We micromanaged the punctuation and line breaks. We remembered when we thought that line would make a great first tattoo, and we’re glad we didn’t get it during the deepest of our grieving. Among decisions that should be made with a clear head, I would rank tattoos up there, wouldn’t you?
We also submitted to another journal, one that just opened today, and at least one of the founders is from our alma mater, though we don’t know her: https://tandemlitmag.com/. We believe in supporting our writing family. This one is for women-identifying writers only, which WR heartily approves of. We have some sharp-edged poems in our files that we sent their way. Fingers crossed.
Tomorrow morning (what, ten a.m. is NOT too early, WR! You lazy beastie) we are meeting up with a friend, yay!
We did have to search to find a place where we hope we can talk freely, a necessity for catching up. Since the remaining cafe uptown is tiny, that’s a no.
We are going to try the coffee shop at the university, though it’s not a place I could see myself writing on the regular. Still, WR is looking forward to a good chat and some people-watching.
WR insists we need to get there early if we want any hope of snagging a table, so I’ll probably be holding down a spot well before the ten o’clock rush. (Can you tell I’m looking forward to seeing her? It’s been ages! She moved to SPAIN on me!) Of course, if it’s just too noisy, we’ve already agreed to retreat to some quiet nook around campus.
For now, my writing spot is primarily my own front porch, at least on days as lovely as this.
Drema