I've been a bad blogger. Good writer. Bad blogger. I have neglected my precious little contribution to online commentary for greener pastures- the coveted world of print publication. That's right folks, I've taken a my first significant crack at the big leagues. For the last four months I have been working on an essay that I submitted yesterday to the holy grail of freelance writing publications (at least for me, anyway); Glamour magazine. Now, don't go getting all excited for me just yet. It's an unsolicited submission so I won't know for a little while if they are, in fact, going to publish it. Won't you all join me in keeping your fingers crossed?
Today I am utterly exhausted. My heart, soul, pain, joy, blood, sweat, and tears are in those 3,000 words and writing, editing, and rewriting that piece have been just about the only things on my mind for the last four months. That, and fantasizing about what it will be like to have my words published in the uber-giant-mega-mag that is the illustrious Glamour. But today it is over; at least my part is over. I have submitted my best work to date and now I wait. Immediately after clicking "send", I felt as though someone had siphoned all the fuel from my tank- I was empty. I just about melted into a puddle of goo on my couch and stared at the TV like a zombie. After an hour or so I chided myself for not rewarding my efforts so I cruised on over to Starbucks and splurged on a double-venti Pumpkin Spice Lite Frappuccino. As yummy as it was, it failed to give me back my mojo. So, I decided to just resign myself to an evening of mindless channel surfing.
I guess when all your energy and emotions go into something that so much of your being is invested in and the stakes are so high, it's a huge let-down when you finally, well, let down. The subject matter of my essay was very personal and emotional for me so it took a little extra out of my mental reserves and left me feeling completely deflated. However, I am extremely satisfied with the work I created and I have committed myself to not take it as a personal testament to my abilities as a writer if I am rejected. (That's my story and I'm stickin' to it)
I am now on a mission to commit myself to my next big submission and do my very best to keep this one off my mind until I hear from the all mighty Powers-That-Be. I will, however, try try try not to neglect my sweet little blog anymore. I still love all of you that read it!
I've always wondered what it's like to be one of those people that parks themselves at a coffee shop table with a laptop and a latte and remains completely engrossed in their work for hours. I notice them while I'm grabbing my afternoon caffeine fix on my hurried way to some other pressing engagement. What fascinates me the most about this group of people is not the nature of their work or whether or not they're just cruising Facebook and simply attempting to look pretentious with their new Macbook; it's how the hell these folks maintain their attention span and block out the chaos around them.
So I'm attempting what I have always perceived to be impossible- I'm writing in a coffee shop. My usual writing environment consists of me, my laptop, and unconditional silence. I tried listening to music for a period of time when I first started but I soon discovered that I remain much more focused in graveyard-like quiet. Needless to say, I am now completely out of my creative element. I'm currently dedicating all of my God-given effort (what little I actually posses) to keeping my eyes cemented to the computer screen right now because all I want to do is raise my gaze to the scenery around me and people watch. It's a lot harder than it sounds. I so very badly want to listen to the conversation the two thirty-something guys are having from the leather armchairs ten feet from my table, or watch the steady stream of distinctly middle-class white folks in khaki shorts and polo shirts grab their mid afternoon iced lattes.
I must admit, as the caffeine in my own iced coffee works its magic and as I grow more accustomed to my current surroundings the creative process is slowly returning to me. There is something oddly therapeutic about the sound of the steamer and the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans permeating the buzz of miscellaneous conversations and soft acoustic folk music. It's nice to be out in the world, watching life happen as I attempt to create my own contribution to the universe. The isolation I usually encounter during my long afternoons in my home office is virtually non-existent in this particular backdrop. I'm a part of the shuffle and a silent observer all at the same time.
It's a little strange that I'm starting to realize that writing in public ultimately produces fewer distractions than writing at home. There's no TV to click on when I get stuck on how to finish a thought, no puppy dancing around my feet in attention-starved desperation, and no wandering thoughts of accumulated laundry or unwashed dishes. Sitting in this coffee shop I am forced to focus on my task at hand. It's a lot more like giving up when you close up the computer and get back in the car than just setting the computer aside and checking to see what's new on the DVR.
I guess the moral of this little experiment is that I will probably join the ranks of frequent coffee shop writers. I'll be that girl in the corner clicking away on the keys and sipping a latte that makes you wonder what kind of people actually sit in coffee shops with their computers.
