As a writer and artist who has and continues to regularly submit work to various grants, journals, and publishers, I am intimate with the stresses involved, particularly the waiting.
About twenty years ago, in a Tower Records in Times Square or Piccadilly Circus, I picked up a marked-down copy of John Preston’s first essay collection, My Life as Pornographer.
These days I will, on occasion, drop a casual reference to Captain America or Mass Effect, or mention BioWare or Batman, or finally agree to my husband’s pleas that I join him for a round of HeroQuest, “mother of modern board games.”