Once upon a time, about five years ago, the Balabusta started to collect materials for an anthology she hoped to publish. It got so far (a manuscripts worth) and stalled, because of lack of time, mostly, and the Balabusta started to try to get a real career (the same one she's now making herself crazy trying to get to keep), and the anthology languished. She tried to get it a grant. Didn't work. Went back to school.
Now I find, through random Internet surfing, that apparently one of my authors got tired of waiting and edited her own anthology on the same topic. And it's being published in April.
I feel...weird.
Okay, not a good word. Jealous. A little cheated. Maybe a little guilty--did I do right by my idea? Annoyed that her anth has a stupid cover.
Weirdest of all--motivated. I mean, I'm sitting here in physical shock, but at the same time, I've suddenly remembered how important writing was to me when I had time, and how good it feels, how good it is to be immersed in books--and I want it back. I have a novel to finish. I have articles to write. I have a whole different perspective than I did when I was a twenty-something Jewish feminist wannabe. Now I'm a thirty-something Jewish feminist with rent to make, stuff to do, places to go, spaghetti to cook.
Damn. I need to get back in gear.
Starting by getting my computer fixed.
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1 comment:
so, the truth is out, and you're really Madonna? er, Esther? i must say you'll be a fine novelist, too, as your role here is very convincing. must be the kabbalah of fine writing showing through. may you be blessed with good health and much joy!
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