What One Girl Knows

Another poem has been accepted for publication. "Throat" to Ship of Fools. It took a bit of sleuthing to figure out which literary magazine it was, though -- the editor wrote on lined paper (no letter-head), and with no mention of which magazine he represented. But I figured it out.

These acceptances are encouraging, though frankly, I'm not inspired to write anything at the moment. My temp assignment ends next Friday, and the supervisor of my supervisors took me aside and asked if I was interested in working permanently for the company. Now here's the weird part. I am. I like the 34th floor. I like researching stocks and bonds, and most of my co-workers (hmm, let's say 96%). It seems so remote to the rest of my life, my identity as a writer, that it feels refreshing. She mentioned one twilight shift (2-10 PM) and God knows how many night shifts (midnight-8:30 AM). I talked to Jason about the twilight shift, and decided the hours were really better for me. I hate getting up in the morning, and I like to write late at night. But when I spoke to the supervisor, she said she'd forgotten they offered the position to someone a few days before she spoke to me. So far, no word on whether that someone accepted it or not.

I felt crushed. Is that weird? I kind of think it is. My goal in life is to become a published writer and creative writing teacher, not a financial personnel. So this twist is a bit startling.

My computer time at the library's about to end. Must get internet again at home soon!