Not quite seeing the light, but trying to be lighthearted

I think the Gods Must Be Crazy. Did you see that movie? Don't feel bad if you didn't, it was released in 1980. But it pretty much sums up my reaction to the last few weeks. No, a coke bottle didn't fall from the sky, but I sure have had a lot of shit rain down on me and I sure wish I could drop it all at the end of the Earth and have it disappear.

We have Peanut scheduled for an appointment with a neurologist on Monday. Mike and I have been total wrecks watching our little pug baby go downhill. He turns nine next month. I thought I had another few years before I had to deal with geriatric dog issues.

BB starts school on Monday. Not sure how he will take this. It will be the first time he has ever been left with a bunch of people he does not know. I am hoping his curious nature will take over and it won't be too big of a deal. Probably won't be good if I start crying though right?

But before Peanut went and became epileptic on us last week, my mind had finally drifted back to one of my heart's desires. Writing.

I was reading The Writer, a magazine I subscribe to, and there was an article by a YA Author named Mandy Hubbard about getting published. Her biography indicated she was from Enumclaw which is in Washington. One thing I noticed was missing from her biography was her educational and publication background. When I read these articles I mostly see that they are written by authors with a laundry list of articles written, and oh, yeah, they all have MFAs. I checked her website and there was nothing on there either. So I took I chance and emailed her.

She was very responsive and confirmed that she was able to publish her debut novel without an MFA and without having ever published anything else before. She has also graciously agreed to meet with me to talk about it more and I will hopefully be taking her up on that offer next month. That will also give me time to read her debut novel, Prada and Prejudice.

Nanowrimo is starting to knock on the back porch of my brain. Reminding me that I have three months to come up with another concept for a novel if I hope to finish this year. I keep telling Nanowrimo to come back after Sock Summit in August and then we can talk.

You know you are stressed when you start talking to random constructs of your own mind.