Not long ago, I looked through my senior yearbook.
After looking at the various photos, laughing at my former seventeen-year-old self , and drawing devil horns and mustaches on the photos of the bitches who were mean to me in high school; I happened upon the the "My Plans After Graduation" page.
Yes! The glorious page of the yearbook where good intentions and pipe dreams go to die.
Imagine my surprise when I read what seventeen-year-old Lucinda Thompson had to say:
"I plan to go to college, teach, and write a book. I will marry Jerry and live happily ever after."
Huh. I didn't remember writing that.
Sounds reasonable enough.
It's actually not too far fetched from the life I am living. The exception being the whole "writing a book" thing. The more I delve into the process of making writing something I do as a career, the more I realize...It's really complicated.
I have found that not only do certain publishing companies only accept specific genres, they only accept them at particular times of the year.
For instance, if I wrote fictional smutty-romance novels, or dabbled in tween vampire erotica...my writings would be picked up in a heartbeat! (Oh, don't get me wrong, I could write the shit out of some tween-vampire erotica, but...I would then have to kill myself for contributing to what is becoming the weirdest genre of literature in history.)
There has to be a market somewhere for the deranged, yet insightful, ramblings of a twenty-something year-old-woman who bears the good, bad and ugly parts of herself for the sole purpose of entertaining her readers.
There are a lot of things I disagree with seventeen-year-old Lucinda on... most of them pertain to her clothing/hairstyle/make up decisions, but I think she had something right when she scrawled her life plan on the yearbook submission form that day.
I know that underneath (and intertwined with) all of my brain lint....there is a book.
Not only is there a book, but it's a good book.
A story that many can relate to, and one that is universal to gender, age or geographical location.
Man, it's there.
Right on the edge of coming to fruition, but the process....the process is comparable to having a gynecological exam done by Freddy Krueger: It's like having scary slasher blades invading your most personal of spaces! Yowza!
I would like to use this opportunity to thank everyone who has taken the time to read my deranged ramblings. Those who have combed through my stories, bad analogies and prolific cursing to see what lies beneath.
Thank you...and stick with me!
Hopefully, I can forge through the seemingly impenetrable forcefield of the publishing world, and produce something worth going to the bookstore to purchase.
Although the process will be long...I plan on proving my younger self, right. For a change.
****Also! If you are reading this, and you were mean to me in high school... Listen, I just want you to know that the devil horns and dastardly mustache drawings are all part of my personalized therapy plan to overcome my traumatic high school experience.