It’s an awful word really for what is an already an often terrifying ordeal. Submission. It’s down on your knees, saying please, please. That’s why I’d rather say I made an application yesterday for a writing fellowship. Scary stuff but it has to be done to put myself out there and find a mainstream publisher. I won’t say where to at the moment but it is actually a place. A place to get your foot in the door but more importantly write uninterrupted for a week in a wonderful location. Gardens, bushland, peace and quiet.  More importantly, meals fixed! Yes, this place is real and it’s reassuring to know it does  exist. Bliss has a name!

When you actually think about it, a writing life is a very strange way to live. I’ve been living this life for thirty years now and both my children (11 years apart) just thought Mum was a bit weird. Thirteen years ago when I moved up north and bought a new house as a single mum, I decided I was going to have a study  (a Room of My Own) even if it killed me. I even managed to get a wall to wall bookcase. I have another house now but unfortunately don’t have that wonderful bookcase and strangely enough find I do most of my writing at cafes these days. Not sure why exactly but escape is a factor. You know, at home you have housework waiting for you, dogs to be walked, a garden to tend to. At a cafe all you can do is to talk to friends, write or read.

When I think about it, behind most of my “submissions,” has been the desire for fame and fortune (of course) but also the desire for more time to write. A bit of money coming in so that I don’t have to work forty hours per week AND WRITE. Instead, say, three days a week with two to do my writing. A dream? Maybe but it’s lovely to have something to aim for and gives me the strength to make these submissions.

Wish me luck!