It's Okay Thursday {Late Morning}

It’s Ok.

It’s Ok that Logan was an hour late for school this morning.

It’s Ok.

Because he was tired. Because Brodie was tired, too. Because I knew if I let them sleep an extra hour, they’d be in better moods, which meant I would be in a better mood. Because I was dressed AND had make-up on when we finally made it to school, which, I’ll admit, never happens. Because some days, it’s more important to like your kids than be on time.

Much better mood than yesterday. This is what he calls "Cute Face"

Me and The Bump. Feeling totally Spring

It’s Ok.

It’s Ok that I woke up to two sets of pissy clothes this morning, piled in the bathroom floor.

It’s Ok.

Because they changed their own pajamas in the middle of the night and didn’t feel the need to wake me up. Because one peed on a pallet in the floor and the other one peed in the top bunk which left a dry bottom bunk, which they both climbed into and fell back asleep. Because I finally made it to that pile of clean laundry and put it all away, so when I had to wash a load of wet clothes and sheets this morning, the laundry room was already emptied out.

This is a huge Krysten Success.

It’s Ok.

It’s Ok that my schedule has been off this week and I’m a little behind on sleep.

It’s Ok.

Because getting up with Jeremy at 3am means he’s been at the dinner table every night this week, that he’s been at tee ball practice and tee ball games and cub scout meetings, that we’ve been able to have a couple of quiet cups of coffee together, even if it’s in the middle of the night. Because I’ve gotten some major writing done in the wee hours of the morning while everyone else is still asleep. Because Brodie has finally learned to watch TV quietly while I sneak in a nap. Because I’m getting ready to have a third baby and I’m going to have to learn to function that way in a few months anyway. I might as well get used to it before I have a crying newborn to feed.

It’s Ok.

It’s Ok to buy maternity clothes at Wal-mart. And baby clothes, for that matter.

It’s Ok.

Because they’re cute. Because they’re cheap. Because I want to look cute but refuse to spend too much money on clothes I won’t wear after about July. (Ever again, I swear it this time. NO MORE BABIES!) And why not buy a cute onesie for three bucks that Baby Girl is probably going to puke on anyway? It. Has. An. Owl. On. It!!

It’s Ok.

It’s all Ok.

Happy Thursday, Friends.

go. do. be. 

Linking up over here today. 

My First Rejection Letter!!

This, ladies and gentlemen, is my first rejection letter. 

Isn’t it pretty?

I mean, really, in the grand scheme of things, I’m pretty sure a letter that includes the phrases, “We appreciate the chance…” and “Please try again soon...” is pretty good as far as rejection letters go. When I was at the Southern California Writers Conference in September, I heard stories from my fellow writers about getting rejection letters that said a lot worse. A LOT WORSE. Plus, I think it was nice to get a letter back at all. Some publications don’t even bother.

To me, this letter is a really big deal. Not in the throw myself down on the ground and cry sort of way. In fact, I actually didn’t cry at all. It’s a really big deal because it’s proof that I put myself out there. That I took a chance on myself and my little piece of flash-fiction and sent it out into the world.

That I go’d and I do’d and I be’d.

I read the email, chuckled to myself a little, took a screen shot, told Jeremy, sent the screen shot to my friends Megan and Nick, and went to tee ball practice. Jeremy was seriously offended and called them stupid. Nick told me how one of his favorite books was rejected by 18 publishing houses before being accepted by the 19^th , where it went on to sell millions upon millions of copies. Megan told me that Stephanie Meyer had something like 17 rejections and now she’s “swimming in millions like Scrooge McDuck.” And then she added, “and just so you know, you write better than her.”

It was nice to hear those things but, the truth of the matter is, I’m really not that bummed about it.

The piece that this email is rejecting is called ‘Kitty.’ It was my first attempt at flash-fiction. It isn’t a manuscript that I poured my heart and soul into. I didn’t spend months, or even days for that matter, working and re-working it. I wrote it in about an hour and a half, in a hotel room in Long Beach, for a contest I won.

And the feeling of writing it in that hotel room, all alone on a Saturday night, and then winning the contest, are two things that no one will ever be able to take away from me.

Would it have been cool for me to submit it to a second place and have them like it, too? Publish it, even?

Absofreakinglutely!

Did they?

No.

Does that change the way I feel about this little piece of flash-fiction? Does it take away the high I got by writing it? Does it take away the high I got when it was validated by my peers? Does it make it less mine? Does it mean I won’t submit it somewhere else? Work it some and tweak it some and try again?

Absofreakinglutely Not!

I hate to repeat quotes that I can’t remember the author of but, I read a quote once that I haven’t ever forgotten, even though I can’t remember where. It said,

“Writers want to write, not to have written.”

And that’s what I want to do. I want to write.

Yesterday, I spent 14 hours working on a monologue. I’m on my fourth draft and almost ready to send it off somewhere in the hopes that it’ll make it to a stage in New York in 2014. Will it? I don’t know. Will it change anything about the way I felt yesterday while I was writing it if it doesn’t?

No. It won’t.

I write. It’s what I do. It’s who I am. No amount of rejections is going to change that. And the truth is, no amount of acceptance letters is going to change it either.

It just is.

I'm pretty content with my first rejection letter. 
I think I'll frame it.  

Happy Tuesday, Friends.

go. do. be.