My iPhone starting strumming harp strings before nine this morning. The ringtone for my girlfriend, Krystee.
"Random House called," she exclaimed, voice all a tremble. "They're interested in my book!"
We've both been working on difficult memoirs since our initial introduction more than eight years ago, and I was shocked and excited to hear her news.
"And you know what else?" she said, now laughing.
"No, April Fools!!"
She got me good, that girl. But only because it is a real possibility that soon she will be getting that call, we'll both be getting that call, and we'll hit the road together on our first of many book tours.
Writing is such a hard, crazy vocation. Especially since I write for the joy of it, the need of it, and not for the bucks. And it's lonely, too, here in my office, with only my thoughts and iTunes for company.
Though today is the start of the Poem-a-Day challenge, and a whole company of writers are gathering on various sites to post words that will in some way change the world because they have been spoken. Last year I completed the challenge; I'm not sure it's possible this year, since it takes me away from my memoir. But if it happens, I will post the poems that arrive special delivery in my lap. The ones that beg to be written. The ones that keep me up in the night. Like this bridge over the South Canadian, the ones that connect me to you.
Thanks for taking the time to read and listen.