So I abandoned working on If Wishes were Horses: A Returning Rider’s Search for the Perfect Horse in order to write a grant, one for an organization known as the Rasmuson Foundation. They fund writer’s and artist’s projects, and give money to those who wish to continue to do what it is they think they do so well. Whether or not they are good at what they do is of course to remain a matter of conjecture.

I am seeking funding in order to put out a publication, a book entitled The Palmer Reivew: Readers on Reading. It is an outgrowth of the Bright Lights Book Project. My stylistic model is the Paris Review Series: Writers on Writing. I too am going to put out a volume or series of volumes on the reading process of readers.

Alys Reading

I have not had much luck in the past in my attempt to get a grant. I think that this time around I stand a chance of getting funding because my project has a socially motivated twist.

Whenever I think of the Rasmuson Foundation I picture a line of waifs, each holding a bowl, and before them, a big, fat smug cook standing before a pot of oatmeal. The analogy is this – each person applying for the grant is in essence saying “please sir, may I have some more?” Me included.

All artists and writers, at some point in their careers, most early on, tend to have to grovel. This is because we live in a society where their work is not valued. Their work is not valued because it is considered to be a self-indulgent activity.

You don’t see investment bankers, or corporate executives, or famous sports figures writing grants in hopes that someone, somewhere, will take note, and toss them a pittance. This is because what they do is valued by society; consequently, the majority have more money and power than they know what to do with.

In the past I’ve stood patiently in line, in hope that the so-called big, fat cook might dole me out my share. He has not, and I have gotten all bent out of shape about this. This time around, I feel a bit differently about the end result. If I don’t get what I want, I will simply move on. I guess now that I’m older, I’m more jaded than I used to be. Plus, I see that writing this grant has a twofold purpose. First of all, I will in having an audience of cooks, further promote the Bright Lights Book Project. And secondly, this document will serve as a template for what I want to do next, which is to self-publish this and perhaps other literacy-related volumes.

My eyes may be bigger than my stomach. I could be reaching for the stars but only capable of grabbing Orion’s pecker. There. I’m mixing my metaphors. At least I know what a metaphor is. This may be my only saving grace.

Next: 41. 2/10/20 A Conversation with Ryder, Border Collie Extraordinaire