Scribbles and stuff about my writing
I bumped into her up at the Mount Vic Lookout. At first, I didn’t recognise her. ‘It's Jenny,’ she stated, pulling back her hair. ‘Fuck, so it is,’ I said. ‘Still swearing,’ she noted, rolling her eyes. ‘Of course,’ I smiled, instantly remembering some of the sweet little reasons we’d split up all those years before...
It seems like time had just spun around into a big mess, like chewing gum in hair. So, my planned post didn't happen. Of course, I've been beating myself up about this. But then again, these things happen and we all know what happens when writer's start doing their own heads in. (Last week I dressed up all 1920s and watched The Shining for Halloween. That reminded me, 'All work and no play makes Dane go fucking mental.')
I was wise, I chose a publication that promised constructive feedback with each rejection. That was actually really useful and when I received my first ever rejection email, it actually felt good. I had something to work with.
