I'm in limbo right now. I don't mean to dance on a sandy beach but to linger in that place where unbaptized babies go when they die. You see, I've finished the manuscript for my second novel. In other words, I've grown so sick and tired of my novel that I can't bear to rewrite it anymore. So I've sent it off to a handful of writer friends and am eagerly anticipating their reactions.
While I wait, I try to keep myself busy. I'm working on an article on the use of millet in China and another one about making maps. There are short stories that need a total overhaul. And then there's The Rocky Horror Picture Show.
I was sixteen the first time I saw the movie. It might have even been a first date. What was a Catholic schoolgirl supposed to make of all that pelvis-thrusting and rice-throwing? Fifty years later, I'm going to see the film again, this time with my writing group. One of our members asked, "How do aging Rocky Horror fans pay homage and retain a little dignity?" How, indeed.
This week's blog post is about losing my dignity when it comes to the Numbers Game. You see, my mother caught me sleeping on two of my recent blog posts. She's corrected my math and my Chinese, too. Why not eat humble pie and write a blog post while I'm at it?