Kerfluffle

My new sidewalk extension is wonderful. Thanks John and Kat! See, I can turn the trailer around and wheel it wherever I want.

Plus I weighed the entire amount of Jell-O Art I take, and it's about fifteen pounds. Makes quite an impact for that weight. Of course the shelf it displays on weighs nine pounds just for the board, etc., etc., but it is still relatively weightless.

Still ridiculously excited about the essay, though taking it to Market was illuminating. When sharing it with the real human people I talked about, I quickly realized I could have done better at showing them in their best light. Every word mattered, and I hadn't been very careful with the beginning.

So I rewrote it and quite unprofessionally sent in one last edit. I guess I just have to swallow my embarrassment at being such an amateur and learn this stuff, either the hard way or some other way. I will apply myself to reading up on the expectations when one does this sort of thing. It's way different from just taking things to my writing group, and I'm old enoughto be smarter.
Not that those two things are related.

Writing good nonfiction is a big responsibility, and I want to do it right. Offending my neighbors and contemporaries is foolish and can mostly be avoided. Only a couple of people raised objections and I think they were right in their observations. One fellow writer helped with a couple of things I had overlooked, just sentence structure and clarification which were spot on. Most people were too polite to point out the inadequacies.

But thankfully I noticed some of them immediately. It's one thing to write my little blog that gets read by a couple dozen people and quite another to put something out into the big big world. What I say about myself is my problem, but what I say about others is my responsibility. Even though the essay is not about them, I owe them the level of friendship and loyalty I expect from them, at the very least. Anyway, fixed, but not without a night of anxiety.

I am gonna have to find a way to deal with more anxiety in my life. Quite likely I will launch into writing books about both the Market and my Jell-O Art community and experience, plus I would love to polish up some of my fiction and get it out there. I guess the anxiety is the real reason I have avoided the writing spotlight, not that it has ever hovered very close to my position on the stage before.

I have gotten better at recognizing the altered state I call the narcissistic souffle. I get so caught up in it sometimes, I lose all perspective and forget that I am only the star of the movie running in my own head. Having a strong imagination can be turned against oneself too. So more calming work, exercise and housework and more journalling. And more self-care and quiet for recovery from these public days.

I think the essay shows how vulnerable a position it is to be standing in the park each week. That's kind of the point. Just pretending I am not vulnerable isn't going to work, I'm going to have to cultivate more self protection in active ways, not just staying home and being quiet. I will say things to myself, like "this is not about you" and "just don't say anything for a minute." I will think more before speaking up. I will edit and edit and ask people for input and edit.

At least I forced myself to figure out gimp and convert some pictures to greyscale. That was a good and easy skill to pick up. I will put myself on a dedicated course of action to increase skills in an area I have just been playing around in. I will be serious about it.

Tomorrow. Today I need a day off, to get some painting done before it rains. Which is more scary, my imagined debut as a writer, or the very real winter that is approaching? I hate to be cold and wet.