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So, I've just made my begging rounds.
And I feel creepy.
I mean, I've taught 9 classes in 2 quarters.
I'm such a greedy pig.
But it's the only way to make any money at this job.
Now I'm only set up for one ity-bity class
next quarter and I'm paniced.
I've sent out feelers to all the branches.
And I feel like such a beggar.
Tim's words help me along:
Can't wait to see what happens in the spring.
I miss blogging.
I'm ready to write that novel.
But I cannot pin down a subject.
I don't think I will ever--
until I get this "memoir" out of the way.
Yuk.
What a sell out.
I mean, I could possibly "make it"
if I told this life's story--
especially from a certain lens . . .
but then, could I face the people I know?
and memoirs are so done.
fried.
exhausted.
But not how I'd write this one . . .
detective style--fiction--rewriting the self--
but I don't want to expose me.
It'll hurt. Seriously.
Forever. And ever.
Yet, nothing else is going to come
if I don't get this out first . . .
aiya.
can I prosper on other people's pain?
I may have an ANOUNCEMENT on Tuesday.
4 Comments:
Detective style memoir? I think that's an absolutely brilliant idea.
SQ, write your memoir and just insist that it's fiction. That way when you come across details of your life that you don't like, you can change them. Make it turn out the way you wanted, or give it an interesting twist.
Oooh, announcement! What could it be...
sherlock holmes? peter wimsey? encyclopedia brown? hmm... you'd make a good Harriot Vane
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