So this is what it feels like––to set a goal for oneself and
meet it.
I’ve set lots of goals in my life: learn French; stop
automatically saying NO to my children; walk 10,000 steps every day; lose the
new-baby pouch; learn to wear make-up; stop pronating; be a school principal; be unenvious of my sister; become a Master gardener: build a house with Habitat
in Zimbabwe. The list of unaccomplished
goals goes on and on, despite the fact that, as I recorded in my personal
journal, I truly believed I could do each and every one.
Life intervened. I didn’t go to Paris again, my sons grew
up, my knee got iffy, the pouch became a paunch, mascara makes my eyes water,
my ankles stayed crooked, I wasn’t hired, my sister’s life isn’t that perfect, I
live in a condo, Zimbabwe needs a new government, not an old woman in jeans.
Then, three years ago I set yet another goal, to publish Graffiti Grandma. Self-publish, since
twenty agents either said ‘Not for me,’ or didn’t answer my queries at all. My progress,
complaints, new skills, depressions were all recorded in this blog, which I
called Breakout Novel, A Race to the
Finish: .A seventy-five year old
novelist chronicles the mulling-over, editing, sharing-with-friends stages of
the push to get Graffiti Grandma, her fourth novel, read and then published.
This is not the first time she's taken on this task. Perhaps this time? Or will
senility win the race?
The few of you who have followed this long process know that
Graffiti Grandma is, as of this month, officially
published as a paperback. Kirkus Review,
very positive, came in one day before the launch party, which made the champagne
and hors d’oeuvres even more festive since my husband made a huge, laminated
poster of it and hung it over the table.
As I wrote in my emails to friends, when the book is
launched, and so will I be, out of my chair as a marketing executive. I have met my goal, not terribly graciously,
these last months of internet fishing warping both my body and my personality,
but I’m pretty sure that I’m not senile yet.
Or maybe I am. Perhaps that is
why tomorrow I will set another goal: to
finish that fifth novel, the one about the old lady who wakes up one Christmas
morning lying next to her dead husband. Finish, not publish.
And, perhaps I’ll create a new blog, someday, about the joys
of writing just for oneself. Until then,
thanks for reading this one. Jo
Your path has taken many twists and turns over the years but you've reached the finish line. Not surprisingly, there's more path beyond the finish line and more for you to experience and achieve, even if only on a personal level. Congratulations on achieving this goal.
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