The Wrong Midwest

There's this argument (sort of) on HTMLGIANT about a group of young literary assholes being young, literary, and assholes. Except, duh, they're young. Some people are giving them a hard time. I understand the compulsion, but it's kind of tacky to pick on people for being young and impressionable. I don't know. I just try to stay out of it.

I'm writing a novella. Ice cream is one of the main characters. Kind of like how NYC was one of the main characters on SEX AND THE CITY. It was the character the girls talked about fondly but never invited to brunch.

I got a nice rejection this week. Not frameable or anything, but very supportive and sweet. The editor told me not to be discouraged and to keep submitting my work to literary magazines. It's like my mother wrote that rejection. Maybe my mother is secretly an editor.

I also got the best acceptance I've ever gotten. Not only because it's from an amazing magazine, but because this is how the acceptance was worded, "Very odd story here, but we're big fans.
" Ha!

I'm trying to talk to writers I admire. It's working. They're talking back to me. That's all I really want. To talk to other writers. I don't want to sleep with them or anything. OK, some of them maybe.

There's a new chapter in the blender saga. My mother sent us a new blender. It's sporty and red and actually came with an instruction manual. I immediately blended the only things I had to blend: frozen blackberries, milk, and a little sugar. I can confirm that the resulting mix was frothy and delicious but full of seeds. The last swallow, especially, was thick with little black seeds. Oh my God. I know how that sounds. Like zombie sperm or something. Anyway, this blender's the real deal.

I wish I could be in Chicago tonight. There's this reading that's going to be INSANE. If you're in Chicago tonight, go to The Underbar for Invasion::Response. Go because I cannot. Tell me all about it later, but don't be smug.

I might go to a writing group on Tuesday. I want to see what it's like. One of my friends runs it. I might go in disguise and sit at a different table and just listen. I've tested the waters in more embarrassing ways, believe me. Unfortunately, my only disguise is "lesbian". Maybe I can push it and go for "lesbian pirate".

Someone from the United Kingdom found my blog by Googling, "You never know who's listening." Eek. Mysterious.