Goodbye February

Well, the month of February is almost over and I can't say I'm sorry to see it go. Having said that, I must acknowledge that February 2011 was better than February 2010. Last year I was sick almost nonstop from Christmas through -- April? No, then there was all that strep throat, so it was really more like August. And then Rocket Boy got pneumonia. Last year was a TERRIBLE year for us. This one is healthier, so far, at least for me (Rocket Boy is planning to go to the doctor for another round of antibiotics tomorrow).

Also, the weather has been better. Don't quote me, but I think we haven't had as much wind. And perhaps a bit more rain, which is a good thing (wildflowers!). Ridgecrest is still dull, but it's been tolerable.

From a personal standpoint, though, February sucked. I spent the first 23 days of the month finishing up my entry in the Amazon writing contest and waiting to see if I'd make the first cut -- and the last few days feeling rotten because I didn't make it.

The first cut (where they winnow the pool of contestants from 10,000 down to 2,000) is based on your 300-word "pitch" for your novel, and mine was obviously found wanting. From reading the message boards associated with the contest I've learned that the pitch judging is somewhat arbitrary -- people have entered the same pitch two years running and one year they make it through while the next year they don't. But it's still the gateway for the rest of the contest, so if you don't get through, you're out. And I'm out.

I can't stay away from the message boards, though, and this weekend I studied one of the discussion threads carefully. This was a thread where people posted their "winning" pitches, i.e., their pitches that got through. At first, reading the winning pitches, I felt angry. My pitch was just as good as theirs! Why didn't mine get through? But I went back and forth, reading theirs, reading mine, and I came to the conclusion that in fact mine was not as good as most of the winning pitches. I focused on making mine well written and clear and concise, but I forgot something important: I forgot to make it interesting. There were all sorts of things I could have said that would have made it stand out more.

So now I know what I need to do -- problem is, I won't have the opportunity to do it until next year. A lot of things could happen between now and then. I could write another novel and decide to submit that one instead. I could rewrite this one entirely. I could give up writing, or at least give up submitting my writing to contests. We'll see.

I still feel sad. I'm living in this little window of time right now where I actually HAVE some time to myself -- I don't have a job -- and no sense getting a job if we're going to move soon -- and the twins go to daycare in the afternoons. I probably won't have this much free time again until after I retire. The ONE really great thing about living in Ridgecrest is that it's given me this time. So I am trying to use this time to write. And I feel like I'm failing.

On Friday I was sitting here feeling sorry for myself when the phone rang, and it was my old advisor from grad school. He calls me every month or two just to chat. Ever since we moved to Ridgecrest he's also been quizzing me on what I'm actually doing with myself these days -- "Are you working? Doing anything with your time?" I think it really upsets him to think that I'm not being productive. Of course, I could have told him that I'm doing a lot of writing that no one wants to read, but I couldn't quite bring myself to say that. So I said I wasn't doing anything.

Through all my years of working I was used to having evidence of my productivity -- technical reports, annual reports, press releases -- all of them produced, published, distributed. Doing creative writing for my own enjoyment is more like doing pure, unfunded, scientific research -- years of toil, often with no discernible result, no recognition from one's peers. When I try for a result -- when I submit something I write to a contest or a publication -- and then get rejected, it's really painful. I want all this work to be for some purpose!

But then I start thinking about how I might revise whatever it is. And then I have an idea for a new story or poem. And pretty soon I'm wrapped up once again in the glory that is writing. Even if I never publish a damn thing, writing is still the most wonderfully fun thing in the whole world to do. I guess that's where I am right now.

But I'm really glad February is ending. Onward to March!