Harvesting Pearls

Well, here we are at the end of another year. The jury is still out on 2022 quality-wise, but my verdict: better than 2021, MUCH better than 2020, not as good as 2019 (though my memory of anything pre-COVID is rather vague). This is the moment when I always wish that I was Dave Barry (he of the famous and hilarious Year in Review for The Miami Herald, syndicated everywhere). Alas, I am a mere Elise Seyfried, and so I once again scrounge for material for this final December post. Sorry, gang!

I came upon the Fellini quote recently, and found it very reassuring. For you see, I have an advanced case of Fiction Writer Envy. How can these gifted folks create entire fanciful worlds on paper (from Narnia to Hogwarts)? It is (truly) all I can do to mine my every day, actual experiences for a few giggles and/or insights. But my buddy Federico reminds me that even fiction masters are really using their own lives as a filter for their writing. Me too!

And I also love the image of the pearl, which is a by-product of the oyster’s irritation! I am irritated 24/7 these days, and I had thought this uncomfortable emotion was for naught. But no! I am royally annoyed by everything from lines at the Shop N Bag checkout (even at 7:30 AM), to the mind-numbing repetitive- ness of morning cable TV show hosts (“Wow, Joe! Let’s play that clip from last night’s rally for the 10^th time! Then we’ll bring on our crew of pundits who will also say: 'Wow, Joe!' ") Now I understand that what irks me, leads to writing treasure!

The corollary is the reassuring idea that travel mishaps/failures/ outright disasters are actually the GOOD STORIES. Who wants to read about the perfect, but ho-hum experiences, when the problematic ones are so much more entertaining? Mind you, I don’t want to LIVE these catastrophes, and I am hopeful that my skills as a scribe will someday render a flawless evening in Vienna as a riveting read. But deep down I know that the harrowing tale of being abandoned at JFK by our shuttle driver, beats the story of our delectable Austrian schnitzel.

During the past several late Decembers, I have taken inventory of my writing submissions/acceptances/rejections. This year, I am tickled to discover that I had 42 accepted pieces out of 71 submissions (62%!) And the majority of these essays/articles had something to do with my real life. The other necessary part of this exercise, of course, is Goals For 2023, and I have some doozies, including The New Yorker, The New York Times and The Paris Review. Dream big, I say!

Will next year’s literary pearls be harvested from grand adventures, or irritating treks to the grocery store?

Probably a combination. But I look forward to living my 67^th year (!) and thank you all for joining me on the journey.