Saruwatari Ayumi (junglemonkee) wrote,
Saruwatari Ayumi

A Literary Day

The shingles rendered me too sick to go into work, and I'm glad I saved my strength, otherwise I would have missed something really good.

Before I left, the mail came. It's day nine, and I have now received the first of the rejections from the agents.

Before anyone offers their condolences, my take on it is this: I am pleased to no end to know that the New York agents (and this was one of them) have received their packets and are reading them. I was not convinced that this particular agent was a good fit for me, but that's fine too. He's one of the many rejections I will have to slog through to get to the right person, and that letter is coming.

It was a very nice letter, though. "Although what you've shown us promises to be thoughtful and compelling, I'm afraid that we were unable to find a place for it at our agency. Do know, though, that we're glad you sent it our way, and that we wish you the best of luck in finding representation elsewhere." It was actually signed in ink (I did the spit test) by a human being. That beats the shit out of a form letter any day of the week.

I went to dinner with my husband and two little girlies-O, the smaller of whom wasn't feeling well. Poor little baby. She's had a spate of not-feeling-very-well lately, and as a consequence she's looking positively goth. It's worrysome. If this keeps up, I'll have to dye her hair black.

After dinner, I went by Border's for the monthly CWC meeting. I had promised to read from the last chapter of the novel I just finished, and I was excited because blythe025 was going to read some of her poetry and I ADORE her poetry.

Sho' nuf, there she was. I was really charmed by the spiritual turn the evening took. I read my little bit and other people read theirs, and I was probably the only one that got all misty listening to Bill read from the Christmas Mass scene in "Murder in the Cathedral." I adore a good Mass. They always make me cry.

blythe025 read her "Eve and Pandora" poem, and I remember that the first time I heard it I was delighted and entranced. The images were so apt, the way she captured the facets of women with a past thinking over their lives, even though she herself is barely old enough to have had a past. When she read it again this time, it brought tears to my eyes. I wish it were published so that I could pin it to my fridge and put it in a frame over my desk and put a copy next to my bed so that it was the first thing I would see every morning. It's phenomenal. Thank you so much for reading it to me. I love you for that.

And then I came home and wrote my words. I'm at 11,211 total, but the site seems to be down so I can't record that fact. But I have it down in my Excel spreadsheet, so *I* know, and that's what counts.

And now, my poor darling husband has fallen asleep, and I should turn out the light and join him.

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