Oh, hey -fish-, I'm happy for your prospects too. I haven't commented, but been following.
I need to cornhole with you lawyerly types (K and F) so I can vamp some of your magic.
Since The Decision, things have been (expectedly) bleak on the professional front. Back to working as a hired gun to get by, living paycheck to paycheck, with scant opportunities for a professional job-job on the horizon in our blessed little hometown. I did apply for a position at a local uni (non-teaching, because I want out of that gig in the worst way), and have hopes. I did what Truck suggested, bounced a followup email to their HR, who replied with a very kind and promising email, taking care to point out both that they had far more than the expected applicants and that my own app was very good. Phone interviews will be scheduled in week or so. Cross your fingers, rubbing your rabbits' feet, hug Krista to bath in the magic success aura.
		
		
	 
gThis thread is giant. Link or approximate time frame of the decision so I can update my notebook.
		
 
		
	 
Let me explain. No, there is too much, let me sum up.1. Got offered a free ride + stipend to do a PhD in Anglais.
2. Very unexpected. Was on the fence about a return to grad school madness.
3. It was an offer I couldn't refuse. So I went back.
4. It made me insane. I did very well (as expected), wowed my profs (both offered recommendations), but all I did was work and my family life was destroyed. When I was home, I had to constantly tell the Flaming Bird I had no time for him as I dove back into a book. The sadness on his face crushed my soul. I won't even go into the wife and the sex life...
5. I walked away after one semester with a keen understanding about what mattered most, as well as crystal insight into what it would take to land a tenure-track position as a English prof (not creative writer position, as a lit analysis and/or writing pedagogy guy). This entailed -
5a. Presenting at conferences. I went to one in NYC. I lasted one panel before I bounced and wandered around Manhattan talking to random people. No shtick. I just felt more comfortable talking to hot dog vendors and homeless old women and a group of hilarious black construction workers. The poetry of the streets.
5b. Publishing meaningless BS in academic journals. With the encouragement of a prof, I half-developed a paper for his pedagogy class into a presentable & publishable paper. Half-developed. Halfway through I sat back and wondered what the hell I was doing. I hated writing like this. Loathed it. It gave me headaches. My writing soul is all about intuition and channeling emotions and the gods/archetypes/whatever-you-want-to-call-it.
5c. Schmoozing and being politically correct. F@#k that. Never been good at it. Never want to be.
So I left happy with leaving. Now I'm back to teaching for hire while entrenching myself in the community with volunteer work at the local library and art museum. We love our little town too much to leave - even in the face of grim job prospects. We really want the Flaming Bird to grow up here. So we're happy to wait it out with the hope that something will turn up soon enough and then we'll ride the rainbow to total happiness (or something).