Last night was my first experience in the real world as Philadelphia Municipal Liaison for National Novel Writing Month. It ended up being pretty cool, and I had to kind of step outside of my body and pretend to be a social kind of person, which I am not. We met on the second floor of a pub which didn't really lend itself to mingling - they sat us a long table. The guy next to me turned out to be an attorney (of course...they haunt me wherever I go, having worked for them for two decades) and he said "You should get up and introduce yourself to everyone here and mingle". Oh god. Much to my shock, there were like 25 people who showed up, and it was so, so weird. I should really look into taking Paxil or some other meds. Nah, just joking. So I quickly drained my beer and did what he said, and I ended up not passing out from fear after all. Turns out a lot of these people are first time novelists and they asked me a lot of questions as if I had all the answers. Ha. I wish. But it was admittedly fun to tell them about my soon to be published novel, and how it originated on NaNo, and then I realized by their reaction that they seemed to think getting published wasn't going to be that difficult. Har har. I tried to be positive and didn't tell them about my year in hell with that book -- how one publisher tried to turn it into a romance novel and how another went belly up bankrupt. And how even though I have a publisher now, the world won't stop and bow down to me the day it comes out -- and I'm going to have to work my ass off to get anyone other than my family to read it. Oh wait. My family won't read it, either. What am I thinking. Okay, my close friends. All two of them.
So yeah, the night ended up being fun after all but had I known what it entailed (i.e., being social) I might have thought twice before volunteering.
Then I came home and my daughter was in full attack mode - don't know if it's PMS or what - but now she's making it up to me and just made me an omelet so I'll be back to talk more about THAT later.
Okay, back, and thank God she just left for the day. Holy shit. Both my son and daughter are in college now and by rights should be living at a dorm -- not because I want to get rid of them (I don't - I'm madly in love with both kiddies obviously) but because I think they're missing out on the whole college experience. They're both freaking out at me all the time now because they're at the age where they don't think they have to follow any rules - hell, I feel the same way and I'm just as miserable as they are. They should definitely be out on their own and so should I. I keep thinking Damn, I've got at least another twenty years left of fun in me...I've lived in Philadelphia my entire life...maybe it's time to just chuck everything, sell the house, leave the country (a serious, real possibility depending on the outcome of the election on Tuesday. That idiot from Texas steals..I mean, gets back in, I don't know how I will bear it), and just go somewhere beautiful and write full time. I've had so much tragedy and insanity in my life; I just want solitude now. Or at least the chance to give it a try. I don't know how people can so easily walk away from their lives, though. The thought of selling my house and quitting my job terrifies me, even though I'm desperately unhappy. But I love being alone and I'm used to it. Writers need their space. So why the fuck don't I just leave and chuck it all? Oh right. The kiddies. But yep, change is a-coming. Watch this space for further details.
Oh crap. I was afraid of this. I'm using the blog as my personal psychiatrist. This is no good. I think I'm gonna go see if I can find some cool stories to post, or maybe write a new short story and post it here for some instant gratification. Yeah, that sounds like a much better plan.