Tag Archives: Writing

a quick contest note

6 May

For all of my fellow writers out there, if you’ve ever wanted to know if the opening words of your greatest work would catch the eye of an agent, here’s your chance.

Guide to Literary Agents is hosting another of its “Dear Lucky Agent” contests, the 10th of its kind, this one focusing on “upmarket” fiction. You can find details here.

Check it out, submit something, give it a whirl–won’t cost ya nothing–and it’s a great way to put yourself out there, even if it’s just a couple hundred words.

Happy writing!

wherein i am a repeat offender

28 Dec

Due to the traveling, the holiday melee, and now being knocked down a notch by a cold, I almost forgot to tell you all about something rawwwthah exciting…..

Head over to Sarah’s blog, Glass Cases, and you can read my second publishing on her blog, To the Hot Guy at 5:30 Mass.

Enjoy. And thank you to Sarah for publishing the essay! Because missives about hitting on guys at mass should not be kept under wraps.

 

 

 

photo friday: words

27 Aug

As an editor and a writer, I’m surrounded by words all day every day. I can’t, for the life of me, think of a time when I can ever escape them—reading them, seeing through them, picturing them in my sleep. It is not possible to escape. I couldn’t pick just one word to tell you about for this week’s Photo Friday, so I figured a collection of vignettes might do me better.

#1: Remember that whole ridiculous lip issue/allergist trip I’ve been dealing with? Yeah, it’s still not completely 100% back to the awesomeness that used to be my upper lip, but for a short time now, I’ve at least been able to keep its angry redness to a minimum. (Unless I go and do something stupid like, oh, I don’t know, accidentally rub sunscreen on that area of my face. Come age 92, my face will be perfectly smooth and spotless—thank you, SPF 70—except for the area above my lip which will be more wrinkled and puckered than a 2-pack-a-day smoker’s.)

The redness management has been due mostly in part of me ganking this tub of Eucerin from my parents’ house. It’s been there for approximately eight years, but let me tell you a little something about Eucerin: it is magical white cream. When I was little, I used to get really dry skin behind the ears and on the bottoms of my toes. So very dry that my toes would crack and peel, exposing raw skin in the bends of my toes. In those days, Mom would slather Eucerin on my toes (and my ears, but I don’t remember that. It’s just what she tells me.) three inches thick and send me to bed. Why I got these dry patches on my toes and behind my ears it was never understood. And eventually, I just grew out of it, I guess.

Huh. Maybe this upper lip thing is something similar? I don’t know why I didn’t put 2 and 2 together before.

Eucerin  = magic

The end.


#2: Everyone Needs a Julie got married recently, and while that’s always a provoker of change in friendships, what is more traumatizing to me is that she moved a mile away. Did you read that? A MILE. Now it takes me like, 15 MINUTES to get to her house, rather than the five it took me to wander across the street. My heart is broken. I have the woe. I may be coming down with a touch of the ennui. I used to be able to pop over even if I was still in my pajamas! I can’t hop on the L2 bus if I’m in my pajamas! Well, I could, but it would be awkward for so many people. What if I had to stop in Cal-Tort to pick up some nachos?

Thankfully, she left me with this poster to remember her by.

Or maybe just because her husband didn’t want it in the new apartment.

ENAJ, you can come visit your poster any time you like.

#3: There are many things I love about The Swede, but one of the things I love most is that I will never be able to lose him.

Literally.

I just follow the trail of loose change that seems to fall out of his pockets constantly.

Months ago I discovered this characteristic about The Swede, and I said to myself, “Molly, if you get nothing else from this relationship, at least you should make some money.” So I told The Swede, “Listen, I do love that if you ever get lost in the woods or the Safeway or something I will always be able to find you because I can just follow the loose change trail you leave, but if you’re not going to bother picking these coins up, I will. And I’m going to keep them all and take myself to Costa Rica.”

“Can I come?” The Swede asked.

“No. I’m the one doing all the work of picking up these coins, so I’m taking myself. Besides, you’ve already been, and I never have,” I replied.

“But technically it’s my money,” The Swede pointed out.

I like to flagrantly ignore that aspect of the conversation, and have since started picking up coins that fall about and yelling, “Costa Rica!” while holding the coins high in the air. The Swede does not find this annoying at all.

Since I can’t leave my newfound monies lying about, I’m corralling them in a jar for safe keeping. As of right now, I have $2.88. I am planning my Costa Rican getaway for 2098.

Head on over to Calliope’s blog to see what other Photo Fridayers have to say about words!

am published!

7 Jul

Great news! I had part of short story published! Head on over to Glass Cases to check it out. I hope you like it, and if you don’t, please just lie to me.

Thanks, Sarah, for publishing (a piece of) my piece!

money sagas: part II

27 May

So there I was, living in DC, kicking ass and taking names on Capitol Hill, brokering power deals left and right on K Street, while in the background loomed a tawdry sex scandal.

No, wait.

That wasn’t me, that was the plot of elentytwelve million movies.

In reality, I moved to DC, and found a job, and began Act II of paying down my credit card. I worked a couple nights a week as a hostess at a local restaurant. I quit that when the freelance work I was doing for my old company, and for a (sadly, now defunct) very fun nightlife and entertainment website (which also sparked my love for and desire to learn more about photography) took off. It was all very lovely and nice, but really? Did little by way of paying down much of the bill.

And so the nagging, confining, paralyzing thoughts came back, and again. More so when this little thing called the ohfuckingshithelldamntheeconomycrashed happened, and the freelance budgets for my mainstay clients went out the window. Hence, so did my extra cash for paying off debt. Around the same time, I remember having a conversation with my friend Poofie, she of the hysterical situation absorber. (By which I mean you call her when you are hysterical, and she absorbs it calmly and then nicely, yet firmly, tells you to get a g-d grip and stop being so dramatic.) I remember voicing my desire to be done, just be done with these stupid credit card payments, and I was going to change it because I was just sick of it.

“I’m going to pay this off by my birthday,” I declared.

“How much do you have to pay?” Poofie asked, and I repeated the number to her. Through the phone I could hear her raise her eyebrows. “That’s a lot, Mol,” she said.

“I know. But I have a little over a year. I can do it,” I replied. “I will. I’m fucking sick of this. I’ve paid off that amount in less than a year before. Granted, I wasn’t paying rent that time, but I’ll make it work. I’ll do it.”

Interwebers, there is something you should know about me. I can get very competitive.

There. I said it.

Usually it’s only about things I know I can win, but still. (Because really, there is no need for me to stress myself out over shit I know I do not have a chance in hell of succeeding at. Like yodeling. Or fishing.)

ANYWAY, nothing like a little competition with yourself to light a fire under your ass, eh?

Yeah. Or something.

Good times.

So! Where was I? Oh right. I went out and got a part-time gig at a restaurant that is part of a golf club—waitressing, not hostessing, this time. I worked nights. I worked weekends. I gave up a lot of pool time in the summer and football games in the fall to don a uniform and schlep drinks and dinner. I picked up an extra shift on occasion. And like it did the first time, the debt went down really quickly when I first started working regularly at a second job, like a bobsled down a….bobsled track thingy. Part of me was willing to work full-time at both my full-time and part-time job and THINK! of how QUICKLY! I could pay off this last g-d card! Think about it! And then the other, more rational part of me was like, “For serious? Bitch, you crazy. You canNOT work that much without going bonkers and/or your friends filing a missing persons report and by the way you need time to sleep. And eat. And read the paper in bed. And bake things. And then eat those things while you read the paper in bed. And yell at the TV while watching Say Yes To the Dress.”

(The balance thing. That’s always been a toughie for me. But I did my best to not get burnt out. Sometimes I succeeded. Sometimes I failed. Either way, almost every penny I made was sent off to those bastard credit card companies.)

(Actually, I can’t really call them bastards, can I? In this instance? It’s my own damn fault that they’re getting my money. I am probably one of the few people who will admit that the credit card companies didn’t do anything to really screw me over. I screwed myself over.)

And then. Well. And then realityand How Things Work In My Brain happened.

As the golf season petered out, business slowed down, I’d gotten my credit card bill down to an amount that I could feasibly pay off by draining my savings (a step I was not willing to take, because, um, hi, that is way too tempting of the Fate/Karma/Whatever forces of nature and something would happen to surely put me right back into debt this time with NO savings as a cushion), I kind of went…meh…on the whole process. The forces that drove me to throw every penny at my bill waivered and part of my brain went, “Eh, why make a $700 payment when you could make a $500 payment and use that extra $200 to…oh…I don’t know….buy clothes and go out to eat and LOOK PRETTY SHOES!” (Though the bright side of this was I at least paid cash.)

Has anybody else experienced this? Financial goals! So exciting! In the beginning, so much progress, of course, because you’ve spent—how much time? I don’t want to think about it—doing very little or nothing at all. And then, ploop. Excitement discontinued.

Paying off debt, when you think about it (and I know I’m not the first to make this comparison) is a lot like being on the Biggest Loser. Big, HUGE, numbers those first few weeks on the ranch, when you finally get up and do something about your weight/credit card debt. And then, as time goes on…poof…numbers start to dip down and even out, which isn’t bad, so long as they aren’t coming out to zero, or adding on more, but it’s not as thrilling as it was in those halcyon days of first movement.

The months went on, and as my birthday approached, my credit card bill was still getting lower, though my patience with it was growing thinner. I found myself getting anxious to hack away at it like I did before. I also found out that I was going to get a nice, chunky tax refund. The previous year’s refund had helped spark my road to debt-freeness, and this year’s would help me complete the process. That, along with, ahem, some of my savings.

Which, I know, I know, I just said three paragraphs ago I wouldn’t do. But I was willing to do it this time, for a couple of reasons: A) It wouldn’t wipe out my savings, and 2) I knew if I didn’t, those last few dollars to pay off could be dragged out indefinitely. Be smart, I told myself. And for me, this was the smartest thing to do.

Which brings us to our third, and final…for now…act.

Because I’ve written that last check, and like those who have reached their ideal goal, the test now becomes keeping it (the debt) off. I can’t predict the future, particularly financial-wise. I do think the biggest challenge will be keeping the debt off and retraining my brain in how I think about money. It’s already started to happen, I can tell you that much. And it’s a weird, but joyous, and relieved feeling to not have to write a check to Amex or Bank of America, or Insert Credit Card Institution Here. But yet…still weird. When you carry the debt around for so long, when it’s wrapped up as part of who you are for so long, there’s a moment of flailing and confusion when it goes away.

I don’t want to carry that weight around any longer, but I also can’t look back and feel bad about the fact that it was there in the first place. I can take responsibility for it, yes, of course. And I do. Apparently this was an experience I needed to have, a lesson I needed to learn. The very, very ohmyGodwhyareyoumakingthissodifficultonyourself hard way.

I’ve taken, as you may have guessed, to reading a lot of personal finance blogs over the years, and I was reading a post on Get Rich Slowly, that said: Look forward, not back. Base your goals on the future, on what you want to accomplish, not on where you’ve already been. This forces you to think outside the box. Don’t worry about past failures. Concern yourself only with what you want to accomplish in the future.

So I’m not going to feel bad about the fact that I yo-yo debted for so many years, that I spent my 20s racking up credit card debt, paid some of it off, moved to a new city, racked it up again, and then spent the first year of my 30s paying it off. I feel good about it, in fact. You know why?

LESSON MOTHERFUCKING LEARNED.

I have things I want, financial goals I want to reach, and I feel like those things are finally attainable. I’m not going to reach them right away, and if my past dealings with my finances are any indication, it will probably take me a couple of tries to get it right.

But try I will.

photo friday, except on saturday

8 May

I wanted to start participating in Calliope’s Photo Friday this week, and of course I am late to the party. I blame it on being out of my natural environment, but truthfully, I’m just kind of an asshat sometimes. Moving on.

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This week Calliope’s Photo Friday theme was “work desk.” So if you’ve ever wanted a glimpse into how McPolish works, well, here you go.

For the record, this is actually quite neat, comparably. Above the desk, which you can’t really see in the picture, are photos of me in various bridesmaid dresses with various brides, along with a photo of a broken Styrofoam cooler with the words, “Just when you think you won’t have any fun, someone goes and falls through a cooler.”

I’ll give those profound words a minute to sink in.

A few years back, before I moved out here to DC, some of the peeps I worked with at my waitressing gig threw me a surprise going away party. There was spice cake. Also a lot of vodka. I’m almost positive there was dancing. And I know there were ribbons. Many several ribbons that they hid around the house where the party was thrown, all of which I had to hunt down. Each ribbon had a different phrase on it, one of which was, “I can dress myself!” For a very long time that one hung on my closet door. It might still be there, actually. But this one, this one was my favorite, and while I’ve on occasion pinned it to my skirt and worn it out on the town for a night, the majority of time it hangs over my desk to remind me what’s important.

Because really, isn’t that all we can ask of ourselves? Sometimes? Hopefully? At least every other Wednesday? Maybe?

Sigh.

biting dust

6 Jul

Eastern Ave

For reasons and decisions I’m none too clear on – I’m actually not quite sure that the people who have the reasons and made the decisions are too clear on them, either – my fun and fabulous freelancing in Baltimore is no longer. We won’t be our own site, rather rolled into the Sun’s entertainment section, and what this means for my boisterous adventures in Charm City is yet to be determined. Could continue in some sort of capacity, could also not continue, only time will tell. But no matter what I will always love the fact that among the many surprises I encountered when I moved out here, Baltimore was the biggest surprise of all.

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