Short Story Long
I’ve been digitally piddling with “The Great Cookie Caper.” I do it digitally because it affords me the opportunity to experiment with no commitment. It’s not done. I’ll be returning to it later to perfect it. But that’s later. For now, I can and will lazily dick around with the piece. I will be very prepared when I return to it.
This morning I am procrastinating on drawing up proposals for a couple of shows. I dug up the guidelines yesterday when I was home form work. I needed the distraction from insecurities and sifting through art opportunities seemed opportune. I found two to whom I will be submitting proposals. This will be done before I leave for work today.
That show I may have screwed. It’s coming at the end of the month. I don’t know if I’m in or out right now. It’s been weird since the whole endeavor began. You see, I submitted an application four days after they stopped accepting deadlines. Evidently, they accepted me but the organizer accidentally sent an email to to the wrong Steve Laws. That Steve Laws resides in Utah. That Steve Laws was good enough to refer her to me. Upon receiving notification of acceptance, about a week and a half after submitters were to be notified, I promptly replied with answers to her questions. Questions on if I’ll be ready and can I show. Short correspondence later: I’m in the show and we’re on. A formal letter of acceptance is sent to me immediately after. All is well. A couple of days ago, whilst rereading through the guidelines set out by the acceptance letter (you know, what is expected of them and what is expected of me) the last line says they need a formal yea or nay by July 20. The day was July 30. My blood ran cold. I had failed to formally convey my interest to participate. No letter of yea or nay was sent, I was under the assumption that we were on.
Short story long, that’s where things are now. I’m uncertain if I’m in or not. There’s also me being effing paranoid. Seeing as how this has all been arranged informally, I doubt a technicality would stop us from continuing. I also presume that if there was any question on their part, I would have been contacted . . . Arg. Welcome to my neurosis. It ain’t the best side of me.
Time is nigh and I have some proposals to scribble up and send out. We’ll talk more later.