2 t-minus 589

there were two things i wanted to accomplish in the next six months: (1) to take french lessons; (2) and to work my ass off to get a literary agent.

for a full week, this seemed manageable. i signed up for a french class and then last sunday i spent a solid three hours working on jackie at such a rate that i was reminded of the good old days in maph when i could write about her for hours on end.

for a twinkle of a moment, i allowed myself to think: i have got this covered. as is nearly always the case, at that precise moment, a wind blew through and my house of cards fell apart.

and it'll be fine, i'll be fine, because this is all a part of a process- the defining and refining of an idea. it's an adventure and that's what i claim to prize above all else. but i'd be a liar not to admit that there's a corner of my ungrateful heart that's getting tired. a part of me that looks on this not as the exciting journey that it is but as a creative ordeal of great emotional price and thinks: merde. here we go again.