On writing (and a hundred bucks)

Today's entry in the list of things I miss since we've moved: my job. I adored my job -- the editing, the research, the playing with numbers and turning them into pretty graphs. It was left-brained and right-brained, and that made me very, very happy.

I miss it, and I'm not just saying that because I haven't found a job here yet. Living on one income has been rough, though not so bad that I've given up hope of finding something in research or editing or writing or all three. I'm just not quite ready to settle for a retail job when I'm sure something perfect is going to grab me soon -- hopefully by the beginning of the year.

I'm not going to lie: Having some time off work has been a nice break. But something's missing, and I think it's the itty-bitty creative spark that I don't bring out of the closet very often. I haven't had occasion -- or supplies -- to make much jewelry since I left Memphis. I never write poetry anymore. I don't even get to take pictures for Mr. E, who fell off the face of the Earth before I left Memphis. I still want some resolution there! (As an aside, I also never got my five pineapples, which was one of my original stipulations in the Mr. E deal.)

A friend of mine told me she thinks there's a book in me somewhere. Though she speaks with some authority on the subject, I'm having trouble believing her. But I do want to write again. I'm starting to flesh out ideas for something fantastic, and, in the meantime, plan to wake up my creative side by writing an entry for an upcoming fiction contest.

This might be of interest to other local writers out there, so listen up.

Piccolo Spoleto, which is part of the ginormous Spoleto arts festival in Charleston every May and June, is holding its ninth annual Piccolo Fiction Open. Entries have a 1,300-word limit and must be postmarked by Jan. 9.

The topic? "One Hundred Dollars." Intriguing, no? It might be just the thing to get my brain in gear.

... And I'm serious about those pineapples, E. Don't let me down.