In class we have been discussing audacity and how often it is that confidence to leap that makes an art career more than talent. We have shared our Big Hairy Audacious Ideas, so called a B-HAG by our group facilitator's mentor. Bee Hag. Fun word. We also discuss... [ pre-emptive translation for my skeptic friends: coincidences tio which we attribute meaning ] ... synchronicity.
So my eye saw the sparkle of synchronicity when, after finally talking in the group about my preciously guarded secret book dream, Sweetney partnered up with Blurb to give away 10 gift codes for $30ish. The only catch was that we would-be auteurs had to summon the stones (read: ovaries, mostly) to pitch Tracy our Bee Hags. Emboldened by solo six a.m. therapy sessions and group mojo-raising, I commented with a breif outline of my book:
Then I won one of the gift codes oh shit so I have to actually do it now. So. Thanks. Thanks in advance to people who have reacted very positively to a somewhat wack idea that is really pretty absurd in its specificity to me.
Oh. The girl part... the title here was a note to myself to get that word's baggage out of my system. Take a deep breath... GO: Girl appears in the title because it's (audaciously) a memoir of someone way too young to write a memoir. But, it's a memoir of those first thirty-three years. I have this special feminist alarm in my brain that flashes violently when women infantalize themselves for cuteness, but at the same time woman is so, like formal? so I usually say chick colloquially but sometimes girl but usally not but it applies here so go with me on this OK?