So I’ve been on a Google binge. Self-publishing related. I’m having book anxiety. It’s not that it’s not finished, it’s that I need someone to read it. It can’t be someone who knows me, or reads this Tumblr. Complicated. I read this article about ISBN numbers and e-books that totally freaked me out. And THEN I read this other article about how it’s impossible for anyone to know if their own work is finished. Good enough. Ready. And it went on to explain that most people get that wrong, and that the worst thing an unpublished writer can do is self-publish a book that’s not ready. So I’m kind of worried and focusing on cover art right now. Which, apparently, is about as important as what’s actually written on the pages.
Last night I found out that there’s a guy who lives across the street from me who teaches at Smith and is a poet laureate. Maybe he doesn’t have anything to read right now. I should explore that.
This photo exquisitely reminds me of how wonderful my pregnancy was. This is a few weeks before Bean was born. My friends and family had sent me all kinds of baby clothes from the States, and Cheryl, my housekeeper/grannyminder/babysitter insisted on washing everything (twice!) well before he was even born. So here I am, squinting in the sun, with my big belly and one of my favorite maternity outfits, standing next to the the clothesline full of clothes drying, waiting for a baby I hadn’t met yet.
Me, Bean and Cheryl on her wedding day.
I had one in Grenada. I don’t have one now. She was more like a housekeeper than a maid. But Grenadians don’t know from “housekeeper”. They say “maid”. So. You know. When in Rome.
Cheryl was a part of our family. My mom made her wedding dress. It was a green and gold dashiki that she sewed without a pattern, but that’s another story.
Cheryl’s primary job responsibility was looking after my grandmother, who had Parkinson’s and required a huge amount of care. My mom, Cheryl and I all shared the work required to keep Grandma healthy and comfortable and it was like a full-time job for each of us.
Cheryl also took care of Bean while I was at work from the first day he was born until we left Grenada two and a half years later. Bean misses her almost as much as he misses his father.
