Losing the Las Vegas Seat Lottery

See those smiling faces? Those weren't ours Tuesday night 

We're here in Vegas, chillin' out in our executive suite (free upgrade, Vegas-style!) at Harrah's hotel, where the International Conference on Narrative started today. I'm giving a paper on a panel I organized at the conference - and Brad and I are seein' the sights and playin' the slots. Hopefully we'll have better luck in the casinos (after a day of slot play yesterday, we're up $20 - better than nothing!) than we did with our seat assignments for the trip out . . . . 

The second leg of our flight was a nearly 5 hr. ride from Reagan International in D.C. to the main Vegas airport, McCarren. B/c we booked our seats separately for purposes of reimbursement (that is, my university will reimburse my flight if I turn over receipts), Brad and I didn’t get seated together. Which stinks regardless, but really stinks b/c of where we ended up: in the middle seats. 

I lucked out, comparatively speaking, b/c although I got stuck in 18E, only the aisle seat was taken. So I scootched over to the window and spread my quite-a-bit-heavier-and-rounder-than-usual self out a little bit.  

Seated one row back and on the left side of the plane, however, Brad wasn’t so lucky. In 19B, he was stuck between an older guy and a woman in her thirties¾three full-sized people in three seats. The man sitting in front of him, by contrast, had all three seats to himself. My husband, as I have mentioned on a number of occasions, is quite tall, and I imagine it’s not his idea of a good time to sit squished between two people for a 4 hr. and 40 min. flight, especially when there are two perfectly good seats free in front of him. 

And I don’t think he should have to. Am I wrong? 

Well, the gentleman in front of him seemed to think I was.  

This guy started out in the aisle seat (lucky for him), but before take-off, when it was apparent no one else had been assigned the adjacent seats, he moved to the middle seat, leaving a seat open on either side of him. Which is fine and dandy, if no one wants those seats. 

When the seat belt light went off, Brad moved out of 19B¾at my urging¾only to find the spot a bunch of rows back that we thought was open had a person laying/sleeping across it. So, again at my urging, Brad asked the man in front of him if he could have one of the empty seats in his row. B/c I was sitting some feet away and the conversation was quiet, I couldn’t hear what exactly was being said; what I could see, though, told me enough: this man wouldn’t let Brad sit in his row. 

Now wait just a minute here. We all paid for our tickets back here in good ol’ coach, didn’t we? And I am nearly certain this guy didn’t pay for the three seats that compose the left half of row 18. Which means my husband has just as much of a right to sit there as he does¾and if not in the aisle seat (which was this man’s assigned seat), then in one of the other two seats. 

Brad, being too-nice as he often is, starts to turn around and move the 2 feet back to his row, when I’m like, “What? What’s the problem?” He’s shooting me the look of death, the one that says, Oh, please don’t! You’re embarrassing me! and I’m ignoring said look, thinking, There is no way we paid more than $300 for a ticket for you to be unnecessarily miserable for the next 5 hours. 

“What’s the problem?” I say again and look at the seat hog gentleman in 18B. And when I say look I mean stare. And he’s staring back at me. And I’m thinking, I’m sorry, buddy, but you obviously don’t know me and how I get when 

1.      I want something, and 

2.      I know I’m right. 

“Sit there,” I say, loud enough to be heard by a specific individual. “Why aren’t you going to sit there? Those seats are empty!” 

Well, Brad and this specific individual discuss a little more, and next thing you know, this guy is moving out, Brad’s moving into the window seat, and this guy’s taking up his original seat along the aisle. 

And now, instead of one 3-person row and one 1-person row, we’ve got two 2-people rows. I just love symmetry, don’t you? It feels so lovely :). 

What can I say? I’m nothing if not my loved ones’ zealous (if mildly embarrassing) advocate. Happily, on the flight back, I’ve got an aisle seat and my hubby is seated next to me. Phew. 

WTF, MLA?

In standard American English, that is, why is there not ONE panel of interest to me at the 2013 Modern Language Association convention?! 

MLA is the "it" conference in literature, and so I've been scouring the calls for papers page for the past month or so, but with next to no success thus far. There have got to be 80 cfps listed, and yet not a single thing I am genuinely interested in. Even more than that, there have got to be 15 on authors I've never even heard of! 

A friend of mine from a school I attended previously applied last year to seven panels. Of course, he hadn't written these papers in advance; he waited to get accepted to something (which he did) and then wrote the paper for that one. But still: seven?! 

I submitted a single abstract last year (also for an unwritten paper; it did not get accepted), and I'm not convinced I'll even submit that many this year. I've found only one thing that looks like a semi-maybe-possible possibility. And that's a lot of hedging. 

Arggggggggggggh. This is beyond frustrating. I mean, it's not like getting into MLA is easy - because it definitely is not. At all. But as far as I can tell, it's impossible to get accepted to a conference that you don't apply to . . . .

Tough (Conference) Call

No, I wasn't having a difficult conversation on the phone with several coworkers at once. Ick. That just sounds awful. 

Instead, I had to make a decision about the Pop Culture Association/American Culture Association conference this coming April, the first conference I was accepted to in the fall and the second best of the three I got into for this spring. 

Three conferences is a lot to handle in under 2 months for anyone - let alone for a pregnant chick. And it just so happens that the third one (PCA/ACA) is in Boston, which is a grueling ten-hour drive from Pittsburgh. And it just so happens that I'll be 35.5 weeks pregnant at the time. So while the flight is only an hour or so, any travel at that point is not super-duper advisable. (Most airlines don't allow pregnant women to fly after 36 weeks.) Not to mention how utterly uncomfortable I'm going to be traveling at all. 

See you some other time, Boston 

But there's a good reason to consider going regardless: the paper that was accepted is a version of a longer paper that's already been accepted for publication. Once that publication comes out, I can't present a shorter version at a conference. It's definitely a good idea to get 2 for the price of 1 paper - a conference presentation and a publication - and PCA might be my last chance for this one before it comes out in print. But the journal has a reasonably long lag time, so there's a chance I could hit up a conference next fall or early winter (if I get accepted, of course). Basically, that's a wait-and-see.

Ultimately, I decided to do the responsible thing (however much it pained me): I e-mailed the panel organizer yesterday and declined my spot. I was sure to explain why and she was super understanding. I'm not gonna lie - I was gritting my teeth the whole time. But after talking it over with Brad and with my mom and getting some advice from a prof. who's got little ones, I knew it was the right thing to do. 

And so to Louisville Shannon, Brad, and I drive in late February, and to Vegas Brad and I fly in mid-March. Hopefully I won't be too fat and uncomfortable to enjoy the slot machines, er, listening to conference presentations!

Woo-to-the-freakin'-hoo!

The panel I proposed to the International Conference on Narrative got accepted! 

Las Vegas, here I come this spring!

Score! Double Score!

Responses from the Louisville Conference on Culture and Literature since 1900 went out today . . . I got accepted for both panels I submitted to! 

For most conferences you're only allowed to submit to one panel, but Louisville has creative panels as well as the traditional critical panels - which means I'm going to be reading a critical paper and then, at another time, reading my fiction as well! Score! 

No, Louisville isn't the greatest conference in the world, nor is it the hardest to get into. But, most of the people in my dept. who applied last year got in, so if I didn't get in this year (I didn't apply last year), I would have felt sad. And after all those rejections last school year (5!), I'm flying high over another acceptance. 

Looks pretty! 

Plus, Louisville's relatively close (though not so close that driving in the car in possibly crappy February weather while 6 months pregnant won't be a pain) and registration and hotel accommodations aren't terribly expensive (though not "cheap"). 

So I'm siked. Butcher's going, too, and I'm guessing a bunch of other peeps from my dept. who I've yet to talk to (it was a chaotic, student conference-filled day). And Brad's coming! He'll get to the be my chauffeur :). Which makes me even happier, b/c I pretty much hate having to drive. Hopefully it won't be too cold and we can do some sight-seeing. Wonder what the temperature in Kentucky is in late February . . . .

Finally (!) an Acceptance

No, I have not been twiddling my thumbs over here: I've actually been working my butt off (and, like half of the grad students in my office, I've been sick for weeks), and I'm finally seeing the fruits of my labor - I got accepted to the Pop Culture Association/American Culture Association conference in April! 

My luck with conferences has been, well, no luck at all, and my goal for this semester was either to 

1.  Finally get accepted somewhere after already having been rejected at 5 conferences; or 

2.  Really (depressingly) impress myself with 10 rejections total by year's end. 

I have to say, I'm pleased with the outcome :). 

On top of writing up an abtract for PCA/ACA (which took me unusually long for some reason), I wrote a different one for a conference in Louisville and submitted creative work for their creative panel, and I'm in the midst of organizing a panel on a different topic for the Narrative Conference - a bad*ss international conference being held in Las Vegas in March. 

B/c Narrative is so super awesome it's really hard to get into and they don't have much love for grad students I've been told. So, I'm not holding my breath. Even so, I've got an assistant prof. on my panel and a doctoral student with a number of publications, and I think all our papers sound pretty strong. Basically, I'm keeping my fingers crossed but not gonna freak out over a rejection (besides, after 5, I'm so far beyond freaking out about such things). 

Anyway, good things are happening, and the stress and time suck that is applying to these things is winding down for the time being, especially since I'm not applying to ALA b/c I've got stuff going on during May when the conference is scheduled. Spring already promises to be busy as I'm reading in a creative writing reading series sponsored by the department and most likely presenting in a university program that features researchers on campus as well as from outside the university. 

Finally finally finally! I'm exhausted, but I feel so much less loser-y. And it's a good conference to boot :).

I'm getting really good at this

Getting rejected from conferences, that is. I just got #6. 

It's a nice Sunday afternoon, you go to a kid's first birthday party (Amanda's son Jack's), chat and laugh with people, eat yummy yummy food, walk out into the actually-pretty-nice-if-chilly early evening, climb in your car, and then find a real downer of an e-mail in your inbox. Looks like no MSA conference for me this time around. 

It's okay though - Amanda got me an oh-so-sweet-and-thoughtful birthday present (yes, at her son's party) which, among other things, includes edibles. None other than flying saucers, Sour Patch Kids watermelons, Swedish fish, and, oh yes, those lollipops I was craving. I just drowned my sorrows in a little bag of flying saucers . . . I think that's about 18 calories total. 

0 for 5 or 5 for 5? (Are you a Pessimist or an Optimist?)

In the past 10 months I have applied to - and been rejected from - 5 conferences. Actually 4 conferences, b/c I submitted twice to ALA. The others: Conference on College Composition and Communication (CCCC), the Narrative conference, and MLA, my most recent diss. 

I got the "Thanks, but no thanks" e-mail from the MLA panel organizer just this Monday, four minutes before I got the e-mail telling me my article was accepted by the journal I'd submitted to. Unsurprisingly, the article acceptance trumped any disappointment I might have felt (which was minor anyway - an MLA rejection is pretty much a given). 

Still, my streak is worth noting and appreciating. If, like me, you are a realist - I balk at the claim that I'm a pessimist! - I'm 0 for 5, quite the feat of loserness. Can I can go 0 for 10 by the end of 2011? Butcher found me a good panel at the Modernist Studies Association (MSA) conference, and there are 1 or 2 others there that I might submit to, so the possibility for getting to 10 in the next 9 months seems wholly possible. 

However, the optimists out there might say I'm 5 for 5. Five tries and five rejections: I'm nothing if not consistent! 

Although, even if you are a so-called optimist (or, what I yesterday termed "delusional" while talking to the chiropractor), you can't get around the fact that this is still an amazing feat of loserness . . .

As Promised . . .

First (of course) a narrative: 

So, I'm laying in bed this a.m., not wanting to get up, flip-flopping over b/c my hips hurt, but it's 8:10, and it's time to move my behind. I know the article decision is coming in oh-so-soon b/c the status on the online system changed Friday to "Awaiting ME decision" and it's been more than 4 months. So before getting up, I do what every normal American does (bah!) before climbing out of bed on a Monday morning: I check my e-mail on my new smarty-pants smart phone. 

What do I find? Well, none other than a big fat rejection from the Modern Language Association (MLA) conference. 

This ain't lookin' like a great start to the week. I may or may not mumble some not-allowed-b/c-of-Lent obscenities, then right away text  Brad to report the bad news. Then I text Butcher to report not only the bad news but also that he owes me $5. (In a moment of low self-esteem on my part, he bet me $5 that my proposal would get accepted at MLA. Of course I will not accept my winnings b/c I know, even if he denies it, that he was simply being a good friend b/c I felt like crap at the moment - I know this is why b/c there was no reason at all to believe I'd get into, like, the best literature conference ever. Thanks, Butcher, that was sweet.). 

Now, of course, no one texts at the speed of light like I wish they would, so while waiting to hear back about my rejection, instead of twiddling my thumbs I go back to my e-mail to read the e-mail again and spur on the moping. But . . . ! 

In the time it took to send two text messages, I've gotten a new e-mail . . . I squint at the teeny-tiny text . . . I read, "We are happy to inform you that we have accepted your manuscript" - !!!!!!!!!!! 

Naturally, I go bat-sh*t crazy, lunge out of bed, call Brad, shout happily in his ear, and relay all of the exciting details. Repeat with Butcher. Repeat with Mum. Text to Shannon. E-mail to Amanda. There: now you have my morning. 

Happy me! 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 
And now, the exciting details . . . 

The reviewer's comments were really positive (!), which is amazing considering

1.  This is an unrevised paper turned in for a class, the majority of which was written in 3 days. (Anyone who knows me and my writing, knows I don't roll like dat.)

2.  Reviewers can be niz-asty. I've heard many a horror story about reviewers' responses, so it definitely could have gone another way.

This reviewer, who recently taught the book on which I wrote in a seminar for English majors, said my presentation of research and historical context was "valuable material for teaching the novel." Which makes me want to shriek with excitement - ! But it gets better! She - it's a blind review, so I don't know that the comments come from a woman, but there's something in the wording and tone that suggests to me they do - thought my paper was "very timely, full of good information as well interesting analysis" and said my application of theoretical material to the novel was "first-rate." 

Like, ah! Thrilled! Not feeling as stupid as usual when it comes to the literature stuff! 

Her suggestions for revision include: 
- cutting out a handful of lines to make the paper not-so-long (it's only as long as it is b/c I was trying to make a page requirement for class; a requirement which, it should be noted, I still did not meet);
- replacing a phrase with a less (politically) contentious one; and 
- "strengtening the conclusion if possible" so that it's as strong as the intro. 

Not half-bad for a neurotic grad student who hates theory, eh?! 

They didn't give me a deadline for returning it, but the last (and thus far, only) time I was in this position, I had virtually no work to do, and I still dragged my feet. I hope to knock these changes out in the next, say, three weeks, so the article can get slated for an issue. Scholarly publishing takes FOR-EV-ER, meaning the sooner I get this back to them, the sooner it will see the light of day (that is, the pages of a pretty darn good journal!).