Fridge Note: Send Book Proposal by June 24

Ah, another Fridge Note, and this time it doesn't have to do with chocolate. But it does have to do with money, at least with my efforts to earn some more.

Guess that's what happens when I have the gift of time to contemplate my goals as I sit and wait for the car in the customer lounge at Garden State Honda in Passaic. They've got four desktop computers with internet, free coffee [carafes labeled decaf, regular and weak], tea, water, soda, iced tea, bagels with cream cheese and warm garlic bread [strange but good--one of these things is not like the other ones, one of these things just doesn't belong].

While they replace our headlight, they've also given me a window to contemplate my writing goals.

New Terrain
I've never written or submitted a book proposal--never even learned how to do one in a writing class. But this is my 126th blog entry since I started in February, and I've realized how much joy and satisfaction I get from writing, honing sentences, plucking and polishing words. I've always loved to write, but I've never written daily just for pure pleasure and fun until I started this blog. [I also thank you very much for reading it.] I can't wait to park my bottom and face my blog every single day.

This book terrain is not new for H. He has worked hard for years, shaping and reshaping book proposals, researching facts about his subject and the market, getting knocked down and standing up again and again, pen poised, gaze ahead. He scored a deal to be proud of last time around.

I will turn 50 in January. Some people see that as an excuse to get a red sports car or a motorcycle. I've just decided that I see it as the perfect ripe moment to pitch a book [fiction] to H.'s high-profile literary agent.

The deadline I've given myself is the last day of school for Figgy--the close of her freshman year. I'm still in that frame of mind where you have to get things done before the school year ends, because after that, the kids are home and at loose ends--and besides, it means not just Figgy but I too can sleep later, go to the pool, barbecue, head to the shore, stay up late to catch lightning bugs. But truth be told, Fig is going to hike the Appalachian Trail [with an organized group of 10 kids and two guides] Fourth of July week--so I'd have that unbroken chunk of time to focus too.

Spoonful of Honey vs. Bracing Shot of Scotch
Here's the thing about H. While he has a sweet side, he can be gruff and tough. He doesn't sugar-coat things. Often, he'll bark at me--Why haven't you done a book? What are you waiting for?

And instead of being grateful that this writing warrior is in my midst day and night, I've taken offense. Why is he raising his voice?

He makes it sound so simple, but I could give you plenty of reasons why I haven't done a book. For the first eight years of our marriage and for another few years that ended last March, I was the one with the steady paycheck. In the years in between, we were both freelancing, and it was hard enough to balance regular assignments and motherhood--I sure didn't want to stint on my time with Figgy. When Punch came along, another stall. I was 46, working four days a week in NYC. By the time she had been bathed and was ready for bed, I would flop right into bed too. Absolutely no time to burn the midnight writing oil.

Fate
Now Fate has stepped in. We still see sweet Punch fairly often for sleepovers, but she is no longer in our care full-time. While Figgy still needs us, it's in a very different way--not to supervise bathtime, homework. She often fixes her own lunch [though I do like making it, and sticking in an "I love you" note, as we have since kindergarten].

Miss Fate, thank you for giving me time. H., thank you for lighting a fire under my sometimes too comfortable seat.

How true my commitment to myself is remains to be seen. And, I will not be able to abandon my freelance writing pitches and assignments, either.

Our car is ready now.

Damn the torpedoes. Full speed ahead.