Ain’t No Cure...Except for This

By Barbara Poelle

I got an email from a colleague recently that just said, “Is this March?”

Now because you don’t speak Death Kitten, I will translate: March was a tough month for me.  I felt like I was zipped inside of a hippo carcass and made to fight to the death in the name of entertainment on the dusty, blood soaked sand floor of a stadium packed full of screaming faux royalty.

You know what I am talking about.

Like, they aren’t really royal blood of any kind but they wear shabby chic skinny jeans and silk shirts with voluminous necklines dotted with oddly clustered rhinestones and feathers.  And their hair looks like a cross between Beetlejuice and Justin Bieber. And they say fake exclamatory words like, “Flytastic” and “Suge-nasty”.  And they have reached such stratospheric boredom in their lives that the only thing that could possibly turn their flaccid existence into anything resembling kinetic movement is watching a literary agent get sewn into the still fresh carcass of a hippo- which smells oddly of spaghettios and leather- and fight someone in a llama suit to the death.

Wow. What the hell was I talking about again? I got so totally distracted about the dystopic world I was building just there. Like Mad Max meets Project Runway.

Okay, wait, I got it. March.

Right! Okay, so for whatever reason, March just kept kicking me in the teeth. I felt like I just couldn’t get ahead of my slush and that I was talking MONTHS to read manuscripts and that I was violently apathetic about the current commercial trends.  I was frustrated and shameful and ate my feelings as if I was getting paid per calorie.

Yup, I had the summer blues…in spring.

Now that we are into the dog days, or hippo suit days, of summer, I am fielding a lot of conversations from colleagues and clients alike that sound EXACTLY how I sounded in March. Add to it some 90 degree thigh-kissing weather (you know, like how when it is so hot and you wear a skirt, your thighs kiss as they pass each other) and an inbox that resembles the log book on Liberty Island, and you got yerself a  March on your hands. Summer can throw schedules awry and heat up tempers and frustrations inside as quickly as the temperatures rise outside. It is more important than ever to lean on your support system of fellow authors and give yourself permission to close the laptop, grab a lemonade [couch cough add vodka cough] and go outside and READ!

I am telling you, what got me through March was reading some really spectacular works already on the shelf. It reminded me how much I love being a part of this fabulous-frustrating -fantastic industry and how much magic is still out there waiting to break free and shine. And I am privileged- SO privileged- to be a part of that.

You KNOW there is a book on your nightstand you keep meaning to read, but feel guilty that you should be writing or doing yard work- even though when you simply walked out to get the mail your thighs basically got to second base with each other.  

Those of you having a March in July, I hereby give you permission to lose yourself in a story this week. In fact, treat yourself to that hardcover you have been eyeing. Remember why there is NOTHING better than a good book. Remember why you wanted to plunge into this crazy stadium to begin with. Remember why you thought this whole writing gig would be so flytastic.

I am off to bedazzle this silk shirt.

 

Comments

[Noelle Pierce]

I'm not an agent, but I can identify with the heat issues. Taking a family vacation with two toddlers in the middle of summer is, I've discovered, a mistake. Especially when hubby wants to leave the A/C'd cabin and actually *do* something outside. My irritability has skyrocketed and my migraines have increased. I'm looking forward to four days in Orlando...by myself. I hear the A/C is cranked to arctic levels!

As for books? I've been reading a great book by a friend, which is getting published soon, and looking forward to binging on books at RWA. If no one hears from me for a few days/weeks--depending on how many I bring home--no worries. I'm merely gorging myself on happily ever after in a myriad of ways. :-D

[Lauren]

Wow, that March imagery is like Hunger Games meets Muppets on Ice. Are you sure it's a dystopia? Because it sounds a little bit like how I remember the 80's.

[barbara]

Sigh. Really Lauren? How you remember the 80's?
Please.
All you remember is tiny cubes of food and Elmo.

[barbara]

Read on, dear Noelle, READ ON!!! (Also, despite your husband's unnecessary affinity towards nature, aren't you glad you didn't marry mine? Then your name would be Noelle Poelle.)

[Lauren]

Hey now. I remember Muppets on Ice, footie pajamas, neon spandex on all my friends' older sisters, and a lot of Prince videos. What else was there?

[Carrie]

My sister's mother-in-law is Carmella Colella. Carmella's sister is Phil Hill. (Philomena is her name, but she goes by Phil. I think I'd opt for Mena, myself. Or, you know, anything other than PHIL.)

[Alli]

"Like Mad Max meets Project Runway."

Why, oh, why does this image entertain me so? Does that mean I have to get out my frilly pirate shirt and spandex leggings again? Don't tell me Adam Ant is back in fashion.

The last two weeks I got through two of the books on my TBR pile that had been gathering dust. And it was worth the wait!

[Faux Elle Poelle]

You bedazzle me.

[Emily Kimelman Gilvey]

I love the hippo suit imagery. Really made my day. Thanks.

[Dorcas]

March is a good month for us here in Kenya not cold just warm