this woman’s work

If you have a personal story about birth and pain that you’d like to share, will you contact me? I’m writing an article about whether or not birth is as bad as all the horror stories you hear. I’m interviewing a very smart, very understanding, very empowering mama (and by the way, go get her zine!), a doula here in town, and the author of Pregnancy Stories. I need one or two other women who can comment. Especially helpful is if you were at all freaked about birth before you had one and have had a change of heart since then.

My Quiver-full Convicted story is up at The New Homemaker. This is the story that Salon said, “Oh yes, oh my, we want it, absolutely!!!!” And then I wrote and then they never wrote back. So I rewrote it and they still never wrote back. The version at Lynn’s site is the nicer one.

I’m playing around with Moveable Type right now. I wanted to use Greymatter but I can’t get some of the sites that use it to load right and didn’t want to invite that nightmare into my own. If I end up using Moveable Type, then I’ll have to move my blog to a domain that I don’t use right now. It was for the book that never happened. I don’t really want to learn new software but I need to have links that will work once they move to archives (the ones I johnny-rigged here won’t) and also I’m starting to (reluctantly) see the value of comments.

I got caught in a rainstorm on the way back from a friend’s house. Noah and I ran to the car together, leaping over the river that sprang up in the street, laughing like crazy. I love spring weather; it’s so exciting!

I’m having trouble with my book proposal idea. The great thing about having to write a book proposal is that it forces you to start planning your book. So I have this idea for a book — and it’s a good idea, really, ask my writing group — but when I started thinking about the proposal I realized that I haven’t figured out the presentation. I want it to be a cross between a memoir and a support book. I need to find a decent example of this so that I can get a better idea of what I want to do. The topic is a difficult one for me, too, so that makes it hard. But good.

Noah seems to have grown up all of a sudden and I have to stop and admire my lovely little boy several times throughout the day. He’s so smart and funny and very, very handsome. He’s also indefatigable, obstinate, and tenacious (I don’t know where that comes from, I’m the most docile gal I know) which are traits I admire even as I want to stamp my feet and scream in frustration. Life with him is so interesting!

By the way, be sure to stop by Ayun Halliday’s web site to congratulate her family on her husband’s Tony win for Urinetown! The Big Rumpus is doing absolutely swell, too. Honestly, if I wasn’t such a lovely person, I would be beside myself with jealousy. [insert annoying little winkie smiley face here]

I’m feeling so much better today. I made a resolution to start talking to friends and asking for help which is *hard.* I think I’m typical of many adult-children of abuse survivors (and let me just say that writing that felt so ’90s) in that my tendency is to close-up and not ask for help when I need it. It’s hard for me to trust people and when I get disappointed, my instinct is to head for the hills. Recently (and with the help of therapy), I’ve been taking a deep breath and telling people that I’m hurting and could use a hand. It’s been terrifying and the first time I did it, I got burned. But I’ve kept on trying and I am so fucking gratified to find out that there are people not related to me who care about me.
Today I had coffee with a friend (coffee is my post-period/post-miscarriage treat — if I’m not pregnant, then at least I can have caffeine) and we had a great time. Then she asked how the infertility deal was going and I told her about the miscarriage and she actually teared up. That of course made *me* tear up. But it meant so much to me that she CARED. And she gave me a big hug and said, “That’s for Friday.”

I don’t know why I’m surprised when people are nice. Most people *are* nice. Infertility sucks, goodness knows, but at least it’s been an opportunity to learn how to do this friendship thing.

In other not reproductively-related news, the agent is leaving her agency and she’s taking my proposal along with her. She said she has two more folks lined up to look at it and that one is very interested. Also, my friend Betsy has asked me to come along on her next project (I’m not sure if it’s public knowledge yet so I will leave that vague) as a “contributing senior editor.” I’m excited about that and honored that she and Nancy have that much confidence in me since I haven’t been too great about writing my book reviews. The person with whom I had coffee is interested in leading parenting groups with me, too. Maybe our finances will turn around for the better. Also I jogged for the first time Friday. Not well, mind you, and not far but I did jog. So maybe I’ll get in shape, too.

Maybe soon I’ll be financially solvent, slim, and fertile!!! And I’ll sell the book and it’ll make the top ten!!! And then all my ex-boyfriends will call me and say, “Oh dearest lovely Dawn, how could I have let you go!” And I’ll toss my head of perfectly cut hair and laugh as I slip into my green VW to drive to the airport where I’ll be meeting my family and flying out to our little farm in Provence!

Oh dear me, I think that coffee might have been a bit strong today.

p.s. I have a poem at Cuntzilla now. Check it out. For those of you who knew me 10 - 15 years ago, can you guess who it’s about?

For my computer time this weekend writing my book review for GeoParent. I have a bunch of writing assignments coming up that require some degree of research and I’m handling this the way I usually do: by doing absolutely nothing. I finally realized halfway through college that I’m a last-minute sort of person. I guess I thrive on the adrenaline that comes from panic. Anyway, now that I know that about myself, I try not to spend too much time beating myself up for not being more organized. Honest to god, I don’t know how my husband stands living with me on those deadline days.

Everyone I know is having money trouble right now. The moon must be in the seventh house and Jupiter must be aligned with Mars. (That’s from Hair, in case you’re not too showtune savvy.) My (best) friend Mart just got laid off from his brand-spanking-new job at Banana Republic. (Note I have no link to them. Just go to a mall if you’re in need of over-priced khakis, ‘kay?) but he’s bravely forging ahead towards his dream of being a freelance writer. He’ll do well. He does everything well. And then I’ll hit him up for jobs and book deals.

Speaking of book deals, I am waiting to get a contract from the agent. How do these things work anyway? It’s very frustrating. I have a writer-friend who’s in a similar situation with an agent and we keep reassuring each other that it’s all going to be fine and that this is just how agents work. Hopefully, we’re telling each other the truth.