When I was in I think first grade, a gym teacher tried to teach my class baseball. I had zero experience with team sports, had never watched a game, and I guess wasn’t a great listener: I didn’t get it. I tapped politely at the ball, and understood, with the urging of classmates, that I needed to run toward first base, a fraught, tense experience. Safe on first base, I figured I might as well hang out there a bit. Which I did. Other members of my team went to bat and visited first. Some of them then went on to second or third and on to home runs. Others I was able to convince to stay with me at first. “I’m pretty sure you can’t do that,” someone told me, but I assured her it was fine, kind of the way you can stay on base for as long as you want in tag. By the end of the inning seven or eight of us were hanging out on first. I’m not sure what the teacher made of that. It wasn’t much of a game.
I’m tired of wanting to be a writer: toying with it, talking about it, dabbling in it. I love it, don’t get me wrong, but I’m missing out on the best parts of it. So how do I take my writing off first base?
Moving forward, I’m going to set a monthly submission goal: every month send out a new piece for publication, with the goal by the end of the year of having at least ten pieces of fiction under consideration. (So far I have six.) I’m going to get this novel draft submitted to an agent–by end of summer, I hope. New deadline! Finally, I’m going to keep up daily notebook writing, and hope to find inspiration for my next book-length project. And I’ll post once a week or so here, to keep myself honest.
And maybe finally get the hell off first base.
Day 26 of sobriety, page 171 of rewrite draft. Getting there!