F.M.L.

So I quit that really great cooking job and got a really great reception job. They type of job that offered me the freedom to read and write, lots of computer time and all the holidays one could ask for, it was exactly what I wanted! It went really well, all last week, while I was training, then today...I got fired. They said I wasn't a good fit and they needed someone "more proactive". She was really nice about it , but "FUCK!!!" I got bills and now I gots no job. I suppose this is karma, because I quit that really great cooking job like a jerk and now it's back to bite me in the ass. This is the 4th job I have had this summer and I really thought that this one was gonna stick. I have maintained relatively optimistic that my job situation was going to improve and just as I thought it was finally getting there, the proverbial rug has been ripped from right under me. I'm that person whose ship comes in, but I misplace my ticket and get left on the shore. For the first time in a long time, I am really really scared of what is to come. I own a catering company with my best friend, but it's new and we certainly aren't making enough money to do it full time and not get behind on lifes unavoidable...bills. At this very moment, as I have JUST been fired, I have no solutions running through my mind, all that is there right now is FML, FML, FML.

The Meeting

So, I looked online for writer's groups, you know, as a source of inspiration. After very little searching, I found a really nice lady, who shall remain nameless. We emailed back and forth, she seemed nice. In one of her emails she invited me to her home for a writer's meeting, an informal gathering. I thought, why not? It would be worth the price of the wine I was to bring. After being stood up by a certain Edmonton magazine rep, I was still in really high spirits, I was going to be hanging out with writers. I felt like a true bohemian! The house was beautiful, as I drove up, I envisioned well read and spoken artists on the inside, who would certainly offer much wisdom on the fine art of writing. Sadly, my misfortune was to continue.Upon walking through the door I, once again, felt dooped. These people, although I am sure wonderful, looked nothing like the writers of my reverie. It was all women, except for 1 lonely man, who said nothing and sat creepily in the corner, crossed legged just staring. The ladies, half of which, I am sure were lesbians (not that there is ANYTHING wrong with that), were a hodgepodge from homely housewives to, well, very lesbian. They kept telling me I was "a breath of fresh air" or "too cute", which is typically very flattering, but they were looking at me like I was a piece of meat and they were voracious wolves. Matters were made even worse by the fact that very little writing talk was going on. Now, I am all for talking about where you got your Crocs from or where the newest dog park is located, but not at a writer's meeting. I suddenly felt less like a bohemian and more like a fool. I needed to leave, but I didn't want to leave my almost full bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, nor did I want to look like a bitch; but, I was absent from a girls night night already in progress, which I would happily miss for something legitimate , but a legitimate writers meeting this wasn't. Yes, I'm sure they are all wonderful writers (in my haste I forgot to ask) but this was, for lack of a more accurate word, lame. As soon as the smokers began to retreat outside, for what was surely was to be a very small window for me to leave, I took my opportunity. I acted as though I was following and head faked them and went for the front door, leaving the Cab Sauv behind. A $12 bottle of wine is hardly worth my sanity or my evening, which could still be salvaged. I said a passing goodbye and before anyone could notice or comment, I was gone. I walked briskly (I don't run, don't ask) to my car, I was free. I needed a drink and I had many, with friends, sans a creepy man or voracious lesbians!

I had been stood up, ogled by lesbians, subjected to the most awkward 40 minutes of my week and wrote 2 good posts... All in all a good day.

Stood Up...

I was super excited all week, I had a meeting with a representative from a new Edmonton food publication. 2pm wednesday at Second Cup, he said. 2:10, 2:15, 2:20...I feel like a fool, I don't even drink Second Cup. Far be it from me to think that it was going to all happen so fast. I haven't even been writing 3 months. But I have to say I am pretty dissapointed , for a couple of reasons. One: I told all my friends and now I have to tell them that I was essentially stood up and two: I really wanted this opportunity. I suppose this is to be expected, the life of a writer is not an easy one and I am sure many have been stood up once or twice before me. I have a friend Kaley, who is very much into fate, so perhaps, to take a page from her book, it just wasn't meant to be. Well at least I got this little post out if it...all, as they say, is not lost.

?

I have a confession to make, I am completely lost. I have decided to change my life and follow my passion but to be honest, in the last 7 days I have written maybe twice and I have only managed to get to page 12 of Oliver Twist. I decided to fully evolve as a writer, I must be in touch with the classics and Dickens is as classic as it gets; poor Charles, not even his legend can get me past page 15. As I have said many (many) times before, I haven't the slightest idea what I am doing, probably because I haven't the slightest idea of who I am. I mean, to be a writer I have to have a point of view, but my view is really blurry. I chanced into culinary school, they say that when you don't know what to do with your life, go to culinary school, I heard it on Entourage. So I had no idea what I wanted to do and having a knack for cooking and saying all the right things, I got into school. I didn't realize how competitive it was to get in until I was there with all the kids who have loved cooking since they could walk. I never had an easy bake oven and could have cared less about cooking, I was all about the eating! Throughout what should have been the best 2 years of my life, I was, for the most part, a miserable complaining bitch. And my absenteeism was remarkable, the fact that I even passed is a feat in itself. And now I am entering something new and I have no idea where to begin. I switched out the Dickens and started reading " The Last Lecture" by Randy Pausch and I must say reading someone's life story, in their words, when they are months from death, helps to realign the thoughts. Finally (finally) the thought of doing something (writing, obviously) fills me with joy, and the thought of writing for a living (someday) makes me really happy. But, as read in Randy's Pausch's book, fundamentals are key and to be successful I need to master these said fundamentals. I am taking a class, a simple continuing education class, an intro of sorts to the art of writing. It's once a week, it's $150 and it's the first step. I may be lost, but I think I'm this close( ) to finding a map.

To write or...

I want to write. I want to put pen to paper, express myself through written prose. However you say it, I want to write.

I know absolutely nothing about writing; I know how to read and I know how to construct a basic matricular essay, but as far as being a writer, well...I know nothing. Hell, I couldn't even come up with a name for this blog.

This new revelation of wanting to be a writer is a scary one; I just finished a 2 year Culinary Arts degree, after 1 year in music school and many years doing nothing, and now I want to be a writer?! Margaret Atwood penned her first novel at 23 years old and I just turned 24. I am most certainly a couple paces behind those lucky few who have known their whole life that they were meant to do this. Despite that, I want to be a writer.

I suppose the key to being a writer is to have something to write about, the most logical thing would be to write about myself, it's supposedly the one thing I should know the most about; but I barely know me, no really, most days I am completely baffled on the topic of myself. The fact that I am about to quit my (really good) cooking job to write is absurd, but I am doing it. You see, this is the third job I have quit this summer, and it has become a bit of a running joke, but I happen to be very serious about this. I am going to write.

I haven't the slightest idea how the literary world works, do I go in search of outlets to write for? Do I write and wait for the offers to roll in? Do I take a class? I could very well be getting ahead of myself because I don't even know what to write about. They say that a writer needs a point of view, but where do I find one? Thus, I have created this blog as a self study in the art of writing. I wil write about everything and anything, as I am in no position to discriminate.

Dear reader (eventually I hope there will be many of you) bear with me, I am new, I am green and I know nothing, the only thing I know is that I want to write.

I hope you will read.