Christine Gabrièlle

You know, I feel like my writing “feet” are stuck in the mud.

It’s been almost a year since I submitted Book 2 for award/publishing consideration.

The first year I wanted to submit, the press closed submissions early and I missed the deadline, so I had to wait until the next submission period opened to submit.

This time, I submitted almost as soon as submissions opened for fear of another early closing. Turns out, the submission window was extended, and then nothing. My submission was set to “in-process” status in April of this year, and is still just sitting there.

Submissions are currently closed for this award, but I expect they will open again in the next month or so as they did last year.

I can only make assumptions about what’s happening. Maybe there weren’t enough submissions in the most recent cycle to fairly judge my work and select a winner. Maybe my work was good, but they want to wait until the next cycle just in case there’s something better they’d rather publish. Maybe my work is going to sit in submission purgatory for another year… or forever.

So, what’s a girl to do?

For one, I’d rather my submission be rejected than pull it from consideration. Even as long as the process is taking, if the book is awarded publication, the wait will have been worth it.

I should be working on Book 3 to pass the time, but here’s the thing: I can’t seem to.

I’ve started on Book 3, and even have a few pieces that I really like completed, but I can’t seem to sit down to write these days.

Is it stress? Maybe. Lack of discipline? Possibly. Dwindling desire for my craft? Only a little.

Maybe there’s too much space in my head being taken up by all the other things in my life that are fighting for my attention but won’t be easily ignored like my writing habit. Staring at half-decent (or really good) TV for hours on end so as not to think about the things stressing my mind is so much easier than trying to write creatively and tell a good story of my own.

Honestly, I think I just don’t want to write right now. And that’s gotta be okay.

The other day, I thought about throwing out all my painting supplies. I haven’t been painting anyway, and even if I was painting, it wouldn’t be anything I’d want hanging up in my space. So, what’s the point? Why bother with a hobby that isn’t much fun anymore? [For the record, I haven’t thrown anything out as of yet. Doesn’t mean I won’t, though.]

Anyway, there’s not much writing happening on this side of the internet. I have been enjoying The Unexpected Joy of the Ordinary, though, and I’ve been taking my time reading it, which is why I haven’t been here in a while.

And, honestly, I don’t know how much I will actually have to say about the book when I do finish it. It’s extraordinarily ordinary in the best way. I will say, read it. I’m about halfway through, and while it isn’t life changing, it is realistically helpful.

I’ll pop back in soon-ish.

Happy fall, y’all!

🖤