Media slacker. I get so darn excited when my work is selected for publication. All that free dopamine squirting from neuron to neuron in these otherwise bleak times. So in the manner of unashamed self-promo, these are the last four things I can recall being published. Hugely thanking Entropy, The Diagram, Proximity, Brevity. And I have my finalist flash upcoming at Quarter-After-Eight, a piece in Rock and Sling’s inauguration journal, and an essay in the long awaited Second Blooming collection edited by Susan Cushman, out this spring.
I’d love to know how others feel about self-promotion. I’m not an MFA, don’t have a significant group of writers around me (although the few that I can share with are worth their collective weight in gold and I have some very smart friends who will read and comment.) Do others feel the rush? Crave the neuro cascade and that momentary Sally Field ‘they really like me’ validation? Or am I alone in this, desperately propelled like an addict for that next fix?
What ever keeps our little fingers flying through the muck.
And a huge shout out to the editors (my legal pushers)…Ander Monson, Dinty Moore, Stacy Murakowsi, the Entropy team.