I’ve been on WordPress for year, as of today. Bon anniversaire. I was tempted to make another listical type of post, but I’ve done that already, having hit 100 followers, 500 likes, and 100 posts all within the last few weeks. So, how about a year in review instead?
A great many things have changed between now and last october and it makes sense to reflect on them in a loose order.
The largest event was my graduation from college, but I think I’ve said enough about that already. Plus, the sensation of newness, the feeling of being a graduate either never came or has come and gone so quickly that I’ve forgotten it.
Mary moved in with me, which is the biggest change to my living situation that’s ever occurred. Despite the odd elbow to the back and her somnolent attempts to push me out of bed, I’m still happy about the change.
My cat count has decreased.
I’ve gotten over my fear of submitting, having sent out over a dozen pieces (in some cases, multiple times) to various journals, magazines, and websites (some even published them). My goal for next year is to submit something once a week. Given the success rate for all but the mostly grandly appellated, it seems best to have as many things out as possible. Like juggling with the hopes that the ceiling might occasionally snatch one of your balls and drop a few dollars in its stead.
I’ve noticed the trend among literary magazines is to allow for simultaneous submissions, which is only fair given the low rates offered to free lance writers and the slow turn around time for responses. It’s hardly fair to pay shite, drag on forever, and demand complete loyalty. It’s really up to me to get over my indecisiveness and make use of the trend. Perhaps I’d have better luck with a shotgun approach than I’m having with the sniper method. It’s mean more bookkeeping though, and I do loathe paperwork.
I’ve started writing a book since last october. I’m now up to three things I can properly call unfinished novels. Were I to include the things I know are chapters or sections of something that’s going to be much longer but that haven’t yet hit the word or page count to begin looking the part I’d have to put the book count at closer to six. For a writer whose greatest problem is finishing works, that number is somewhat horrifying.
The last of my corkscrew willows have died. They don’t like pots and don’t handle drought well. I’m sorry that a set of my more interesting specimens are gone, but I take some solace in the decrease of foreign species a midst my mostly native and somewhat mobile forest. I do still have the avocados, so there remain some Pennsylvania-strange species.
I’m sure there are other changes, major or minor, that I’m forgetting either due to my familiarity or forgetfulness. I don’t believe it’s been so quiet a year as this post would lead one to believe, but such is the fragility of memory. One doesn’t truly recall his past, he manufactures it by touching on neurons that store a weak facsimile of what one once experienced.
All the same, happy anniversary. Thanks for reading and I hope to see you again this time next year.