I guess I’m lousy with big announcements, preferring to fly under the radar and such, but…Seth and I are expecting a baby (!). I told all my immediate colleagues at work after the first trimester, and assumed that my news would out itself in short order to those who I work with more peripherally. It’s surprisingly difficult to squeeze into casual conversation. Plus, I hate to veer into it’s-all-about-me territory, except here, ha.
Anyhoo. For weeks now I have walking around looking as if I had just consumed a large meal, and as my everyday work clothing tends not to be overtly revealing, seem to have been passing as my usual self. I in fact became so accustomed to this under-the-radar mode that this past week, the week I finally began to show in an appreciable way, I labored under the delusion that no one could tell. But someone finally called me out on Friday, so it’s time to embrace what I sincerely wish the popular press and others would cease referring to as the “bump.”
A couple weeks ago, a friend in my writing group said that his favorite college English teacher used to say that women did their best writing while pregnant (The corollary for men was “cigarettes.” Is this misogynistic or damning? Impossible for me to say.) . But this was a welcome thing for me to hear. I’ve been working on a short story that’s a distinct departure for me, and it’s hard to say whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing. By this I mean that I’m not sure if it’s working yet, though the same could be said of just about all of my first drafts. The point is that it’s different for me, and change is good. Especially when I’ve been sending out the same eight stories to no avail.
It’s time to get something fresh in the mix, or multiple somethings, of all different types.