Numbers of pages revised this week: 268—247 of them novel, 21 of them essay.
Number of pages written: 21—1 of a new essay, 1 formal letter and 1 letter of resignation, 18 of comments on stories, essays, and poems.
Number of people who mooned me when they find out I was quitting: 1— both bra and underwear.
Number of calls and emails negotiating job offer: 6.
Number of concessions made of the three I asked for by new school: 3, although only the first by ½.
Number of forms filled out consenting to a background check: 1
Number of readings attended: 2—1 with Bill Olsen and Linda Gregerson, who restored my certainty in poetry and readings and 1 with me, Brock Clarke and Douglas Kearney, who bewildered me all over again.
Number of hawks sighted while returning from the
Number of phone calls and emails about the transition including am I vested in my 401K, how will we sell this house in the down market, can we move our
Weight, in pounds of fear, that all the answers will be no: 2,837.
Weight, in pounds of guilt and sadness, of leaving my fine, fine department here: 2,838 (thereby, the guilt will be redeemed when I’m punished by the resulting no’s from the 401K, house selling and Italy questions, though I’ll still be left with a pound left over).
Number of poems of mine re-published on Verse Daily: 1.
Number of times I emailed Verse Daily to make the archives reflect my current name and the first line of the poem: 2.
Number of times asked to listen to Didn’t Bring Nothing But the Baby per hour on the way to U of I: 12.
Number of hours to and fro U of I: 10. Thankfully, it’s a good song and I like Alison Krauss.