Bridesmaid in black

I haven't posted in a while, and I'm due. I've been busy working on my latest contract. I probably shouldn't talk about it--having been bitten by my big mouth, I'm twice shy. But I'll say that I'm writing a manual in Microsoft Word, a project any tech writer worth her salt dreads. Those of you who don't know any other word processor don't know what you're missing, don't know what it's like to make a decision and have it stay instead of reverting at will in some devil-induced fashion. Geesh. it's good to be earning some money, but I definitely feel like I'm earning it.

At the same time, if I believed in astrology, I would say that it must be in my stars that friends from the past would suddenly be appearing on my doorstep. It's been reunion city here (the actual reunion--#38 for my high school--is happening in September) but old friends have needed our help, come into town, stayed for dinner, stayed the night... Whew! If we vacuumed the dog hair three times this week, you know it's been Grand Central. Tonight is quiet, thankfully, John and I stationed like bookends on either side of the coffee table, both of us with our Powerbooks, Greta curled up between us.

I have to say that I'm very depressed about my poetry. I'm not depressed about writing it. I know well that it will wait for me and I don't feel "blocked," just doing my best to take care of matters of the physical world. (I'm terribly anxious about those matters, but even so...) But I don't feel at all confident that my writing will ever matter, will break through the surface, will rise to the top. I'm still sending Demimonde out, but after 16 or more times as almost-won, what chance does it have? And even if I had the time to revise and reshuffle it now, I wouldn't know if I'm making it better or worse or simply different.

I sent a packet out recently with a description of the book. Robert was right--the description needed work--so I fiddled with it. Here's my definition of Demimonde, the book that is almost good enough.

Demimonde, which means, literally, half world, is usually defined as an underworld or underclass of people. I think of it as an underworld that is under the visible world, an undercurrent or subconscious world. So it is the vulnerable underbelly of the world.

At the same time, Demimonde is the small world inhabited by each of us, with our own needs and obsessions. My manuscript, Demimonde, is a book of poems generated by these small worlds, occurring in them.