I could spend my entire post saying that I was in the process of moving and working with contractors for the last three months and everything -- and I do mean everything -- kind of fell by the wayside. I'd like to think that I'm much more organized than that, but let's face it, one big wrench gets thrown in to the works and everything can fall apart.
Does that mean I've been writing? Not much. I did have one piece published in the New York Times in late November and I've been working on my thesis for the last month. I'm finally up to 45 pages! Real pages with quality work. I'll be up to 80 by May.
Perhaps it was Lupe’s unavailability that made her more attractive, because Fernando couldn’t seem to release his memory of the shop girl enough to concentrate on his orders or supplies. Instead, he became a frequent visitor to her neighborhood, finding her porcelain face and her speaking dark eyes more hypnotic with each passing day – maybe more so because she had to tilt her head up to look at him. But when she ran off with Fernando Garcia, a revolutionary or bandit -- depending on who described him -- her fate was sealed. Now she was a cualquiera, a camp follower, puta.
Her family never knew that Lupe wasn’t taken at night and tied to the back of horse like so many other girls, their desperate screams echoing throughout the canyons, forced to be handmaids and chattel to lazy, hungry men. Forced to march with armies, carry supplies, fetch water and wash clothes. Forced to call some stranger “husband,” and forced to bear children who would call him “father.”
In other news, I'm applying for composition instructor jobs at local colleges. So far, it's interesting, but I have an extreme lack of confidence. So, hopefully, I get another class or two. Fingers crossed, I think.
Now, an interview on being paid by Harlan Ellison: