being a writer can be exhausting. not only because of the constant nagging self doubt and substance abuse issues, but because if you're a born woo-hooer (like me), it takes a lot to curb the urge to celebrate everything. when i started writing my novel, it was a series of little celebrations. named my characters - woohoo! ten thousand words - woohoo! thirty thousand! finished first draft!! oh, editor feedback! second draft... how am i going to do this...? ping! idea! writewritewrite woohoo! submit second draft! waiting... waiting... waiting...
maybe write short piece while waiting. submit to anthology. shortlisted - woohoo! waitingwaiting... short-shortlisted - woohoo... right? maybe. i've had a piece of short fiction accepted for publication by meanjin. well, that's to say it's 99% certain to be in the next issue if there are no page constraints, and the genre balance is right... so, this could be my first paid publication. potentially. not that i'm excited at all by this possibility, obviously... arrgh! must celebrate something to get rid of this pent-up celebration energy seething just below surface of skin... must find valid cause for celebration! must vent guilty happy energy before head bursts open like over ripe water melon (thanks, matthew reilly)!! must... celebrate... something!!
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgggghhhhh!!!
oh, by the way, i've updated my gig guide. enjoy.