Yes, last year it was painful. Yes, it was torture. Yes, I beat myself up over it on a daily basis. And yes, not only am I signing up to do nanowrimo again, but I am signing up to be a Boston Municipal Liaison. I have surpassed geek. I am now uber-geek. And proud of it. This year’s novel will definitely be based on my work experiences on some large, yet-to-be-named, Seattle-based Internet retail store. Of course, I don’t have a plot yet. But as the wise folks at nanowrimo say, no plot, no problem.
Almost Like Home
Work is divine. What else can I say about a job where I stress about commas, concoct story ideas, and prepare for interviews. I spend time in the library researching, sit in on classes in preparation of articles, and my coworkers are smart and interesting. Life outside of work is improving. A lovely dinner with a local (thanks, Jpeck, for the intro!) that made me feel like there are people here I would actually get to know better. The weather is turning, the leaves are brightening, and my schedule is full of plans. And my early schedule allows me to get full days in. Leisurely after-work dinner and drinks still had me home before I would have gotten home from work at my Seattle job. It’s starting to feel like home.
Stepford Jenny
And the submission doesn’t end there. It’s futile. I cannot fight it. I’m giving in to the CWITs. They have an activity planned that is so clearly designed to prepare me for trophey-wifedom that its intentions are irrefutable, and yet I have succumbed. It’s a fashion show. At Ann Taylor. And I will be attending. What can I say? Free food and a 10% discount on everything in the store. Repeat after me. “Yes, dear.” “Whatever you say, dear.” “Let me cook you dinner, dear.” One of us. One of us. One of us.
