Most of you already know: I, along with the women in my writers workshop, am hosting a reading of our works. We decided that it's time we stop squirreling away in our writer's cubbies and share our babies with the world. SCARY AS FUCK but a necessary evil when you're a writer. This is going to prepare us for allllll the readings we'll have to do when our novels make the New York Times Best Seller List, you know?
Now, organizing a reading is not as easy as I thought, but I'm getting through it. We invited some additional authors to join us, chose a theme (The Latino Family), named our group, the event and created a logo (for future branding, you know? Always gotta think five steps ahead..)
scouted and selected a location and then, of course, worked on advertising and marketing it. Not the glamorous side of things but you know what? You can't build a house without first digging that hole in the ground for the foundation and getting some dirt under your nails.
And after a lot of sleepless nights and countless emails, I can proudly announce:
(ps- this here flier took 3yrs and a day to make. Why? Because the original scroll wasn't that pretty shade of lavender. But in my head, nothing but lavender would do. And this scroll was the perfect size, design, etc. So YES, I sat and enlarged the image so that I could shade in every motherfucking pixel. That I did.)
This has been a long time coming. From the first time I chickened out of a reading at Wroxton during my graduate studies at Fairleigh Dickinson, I was determined not to let the same stage fright that ended my short-lived dance career bring an end to my Pulitzer dreams.
Am I scared shitless? For the love of Pete YESSSSS! I fully expect to throw up before I have to get up before that crowd, same as I did when I delivered my thesis and when I participated in that other reading last year. Oh, there will be vomit for sure so if you love me and you're planning to attend...bring me some Altoids.
*smooches...mad that The Voices let me go through with this*
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I've come to depend on those blockin'-ass-bitches to hold me back and all of a sudden they're in my ear talkin' bout: "So what's the theme for February's reading? And March? And are you going to launch that literary magazine or what?"
I hate them now more than ever...
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