Category Archives: Writing

the ultimate what?

17 Tuesday Mar 2009

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the ultimate momLater yesterday, when I was ready, I did the trip back out to the mailbox and retrieved the package.  I carefully slit open the tape, peeled back the brown box, and there it was.  The anthology The Ultimate Mom.

I went straight for the table of contents:  whew, I spelled my name right on the submission form.  Page 34.  “The Impromptu Birthday” by Jane Koenen Bretl.  It looks great!  Nothing had been edited in the story, which was a relief since the contract stated that last minute edits may be necessary.  In my mind, I thought that might be half of the tale when they came to their senses.  They printed it pretty much word for word; just edited my punctuation since I am a bit ambitious: about colons; semicolons and — dashes.  My 50 word bio in the back is the revised copy with my blog address. Whew again.

I felt happy. And relieved. And proud. And excited.  And then I put the wet laundry in the dryer and realized that, once again, there is nothing prepared for dinner.

Let me be very clear here:  I wrote one little story that is in an anthology with many other wonderful stories about the joys and challenges of motherhood.  My story is about potty-training, and a lie that I told my kid.  It is in the section “Merriment and Mishaps”.  The reality does not escape me, this auspicious start, to have my first published clip be about poo.  And me lying.

The Ultimate Mom.  The title of the book is a lot to live up to.  As the late afternoon sunshine slanted in through the front windows, I held the book and gave a cursory glance around me: an impressive 20 foot line-up of dirty laundry baskets still undone, the breakfast dishes inexplicably still on the counter, and no dinner in sight.  In the big, big story of motherhood, I am just an imperfect contributor.

But I smiled, because I am a writer.

And I am thankful that the publisher did not conduct a home visit as a qualification.

the eagle has landed

17 Tuesday Mar 2009

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The eagle is in the nest.  That is code around here for “the expected has arrived.”  As in, the flight of the person I am picking up at the airport is at the gate;  or, the babysitter just pulled in the driveway.

Today the package arrived.  The one I have been waiting to find.  I opened the mailbox and pulled out the stack, and there it was.  I looked at it briefly, dumbfounded, then stuck it back in the mailbox and shut the door.

It turns out that getting what I want is harder than I thought.  The chicken is in the coop.

a real letter

12 Thursday Mar 2009

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About an hour after my last post about the mail, I was surfing some of my new blog favorites and found this from Nathalie’s Notes.  Sounds like her mailbox receives the same assortment as most of us, but she says it so beautifully.

the universe has a sense of humor

12 Thursday Mar 2009

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OK, so those of you who have been following along (all three of you), know that I am waiting with bated breath for the copy of the book that includes my first published short story.  It is to arrive “in the mail in March”.  For a couple weeks now, I have been excited to go to the mailbox each day and check the day’s haul.  Some days, I prolong the wait to go to the mailbox just to keep the afternoon interesting.  (Is this some bizarre form of writer’s foreplay?) Occasionally, I’ll also check on Sunday even though I know nothing is there.  I started checking in mid-February, just in case.

This experience is really quite pleasant — it has been a long time since I looked forward to receiving something in the mail.  People don’t send real letters in this day and age, and the publisher’s clearing house does not even send those envelopes anymore (did they go digital or did Ed McMahon die?).  Basically, it is bills, junk mail and catalogues that I can no longer linger over in today’s economy.  It is nice to look forward to something, although I worry what kind of obsessive-compulsive freak I will turn into if (no-when!) I publish a whole book of my very own.

Coincidentally, perhaps, I have started to receive a surprising number of packages in the mailbox, although I have not ordered anything (again, reference economy).  Yesterday, it was another plump, promising looking envelope that contained  a… beautiful fountain pen.  I do not remember ordering a fountain pen; I may have started to “sleep-shop” in some worrisome new way, but I don’t think so.  It was addressed to me, and came with no explanation.

Now, I have always wanted a fountain pen — it seemed to me the most elegant possible way to literally put pen to paper and craft a story.  I would also be able to sign the declaration of independence or other historic document if the need arose to do so.  I had no plans to actually acquire one though, as in reality it is not what one would call practical for everyday use.

I wonder if the universe is just deciding to grant all my random wishes, all in the month of March.  Will a gray kitten appear on my doorstep, mewing and looking for a home?  Will I suddenly lose weight without the bothersome diet and exercise??  Will I get my own DVR remote so I can record Antiques Roadshow and Jane Austin Masterpieces? (WAIT — that happened too but did not arrive in the mailbox.)

Just in case, I have decided to become more purposeful in my thoughts.  Random wishes of the past, I can’t change.  I’ll let you know if I get a pony and a big 10th birthday party next week.  BUT, wishes and dreams for the future — those I get to pick, and I plan to be more careful, and perhaps more specific.  (I did not receive any fountain pen ink.)

Dear Sir/Madam

10 Tuesday Mar 2009

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As someone who has been doing query letter revisions lately, I am always on the lookout for good advice.  I was particularly amused by a post on the blog Miss Snark’s First Victim, detailing some fail-safe ways to ensure query rejection.  Writers, enjoy!

cuckoo, cuckoo

09 Monday Mar 2009

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clock worksMy cuckoo clock went bananas.  Every day, I am supposed to reset the winding mechanism by pulling the chains to the top, where they slowly wind down and through some miracle of clock-making, make it run all day (even if it does not keep proper time).

Turns out if the long chains with pinecone-shaped weights become obstructed by a LaGrE pile of tOyS, it will stop running.  The Professor noticed its silence, even though I had been sitting next to it for hours.  When I pulled the chain to restart it, all the cuckoos it missed came rapid-fire jumbling out like some possessed … 100 year old bird.  It had so many accumulated proclamations, I thought it was going to sprain itself.

The clock reminds me of my writing.  When I finally started to write in earnest, the words came tumbling out so fast I thought I was going to pop a brain goiter.  If my energy gets stuck on a large pile of momhood’s clutter, I’m stuck there until I can pull my own chain and get going again.  The kids know when something is off.  And some days, arguably, much of what comes out when I’m working could be cuckoo.  I’ll stop the analogy there.

Tick, tock… keep that pendulum swinging…

the cowboy, the scholar and the muse

07 Saturday Mar 2009

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A cowboy, a scholar and a muse walked back into my life one night.  I had just finished reading a book, a novel with characters so compelling, I simply had to read the entire work in one sitting. I turned the last page at 2:00am, my heart in my throat and my head too filled with the story to sleep.

I went downstairs and found some characters of my own.

The first to appear was the cowboy, in his ten gallon hat and suede vest.  As always, he was a man of few words, but his “Hot damn, if it isn’t Miss Koenen” made me laugh so hard in its startling unexpectedness of night, I almost smiled myself right out of my chair.

Then, another brilliantly written story was waiting from the scholar.  In our first meeting in the last 25 years, we “spoke” more words at greater depth than we had in four years of shared experiences, in person.  He made me laugh out loud too, with his sharp wit and insightful turns of phrase.  Now I am eager for more chapters from him (and would like him to guest blog someday soon).

Then, when the middle of the night could not get any more incredible, there was the muse.  I have thought of her so many times in the last 20 years, and wondered how she was and where she was and what she was, but I never put pen to paper to find her myself.  She was my free spirit at a time in my life where I was painfully serious.  About everything.  I looked up, and there she was!  We started ‘talking’, and all of a sudden it was the most natural thing in the world that I wandered downstairs in my jammies at 2:00am and found her there in my house.  She sounds happy, and peaceful, and still fiercely smart.  And then she was gone, and I was alone again in the dark.  But I felt less alone than I have in a long, long time.

Silly, silly, silly me.  I thought facebook wasn’t powerful.  It’s a time machine.

tour guides

06 Friday Mar 2009

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Authors go on book tours to promote their work.  I am always surprised by the stream of authors that make an appearance at the little Barnes & Noble near where I live.  We are off the beaten path, a bit.  They must travel to quite a few stops before this burg rises to the top of the list.

Recently, I learned about blog tours by authors.  Whether this is a truly revolutionary concept, I don’t know;  I had not heard of it, but since I am a newbie to the publishing world, everything is brand-spanking new to me.  Either way, the idea of “traveling” to reach the readers (and potential readers) via blogs seems to be an exciting and potentially game-changing marketing approach for writers.

For me, following these blog tours is like doing a ‘beautiful home tour’ in my favorite city.  Someone else has looked through lots of places and picked ones that were unique in style, content and creativity.  The organizer won’t put a house on the tour that is in C.H.A.O.S. Everything will be neat and tidy and I can just look around as long as I want and find new ideas I may want to try at home.  I get to peek inside some very creative, inspirational, thought-provoking little corners.  I could have found these places on my own, but I would have had to crack open some scary doors. (Do you have any idea how much crap is on the internet??)

Speaking of S-C-A-R-Y, one of the blog tours I am following now is J.A. Konrath, who publishes the blog A Newbie’s Guide to Publishing, and is the author of the Lt. Jack Daniels thriller novel series.  He is promoting his new horror novel AFRAID, which is frankly too scary for me to read, but that is because I am just a big scaredy-pants.  Even without reading his new book, I can tell you that I have already learned a great deal from his own blog, and have thoroughly enjoyed visiting the ones he is picking for his tour.  Whew!  So many ‘houses’ to see!

I am also following the blog cyber-tour of Christina Katz, author of “Writer Mama: How to Raise a Writing Career Alongside Your Kids” and “Get Known Before the Book Deal“.  Her blog, The Writer Mama Riffs, has also been a wonderful source of industry information (and humor), and the blog stops so far in March have been lovely.  Christina’s tour is planned to celebrate the two year anniversary of the release of “Writer Mama”, and it is inspiring to see what all those other writer mamas are accomplishing every day (plus it is always just fun to peek around in someone else’s house).

In the meantime, Kitty continues to wait her turn for some attention.  The In-Box seems a logical place to pass the time while SOMEONE sits reading blogs all day…

kitty in box

So many great blogs, so little time.  Anyone have another blog tour they recommend?

busy, busy, busy

05 Thursday Mar 2009

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Yesterday, March 4th, was National Grammar Day.  Freelance Editor Gabrielle Harbowy had a funny take on the day over on her blog.  I am disappointed that I missed this specific chance to celebrate good grammar.  Really.  In my youth, I would read dictionaries for fun; in high school, I would amuse myself by constructing sentences with triple-negatives with my friend Kelly (in Latin class).  My own grammar, especially when blogging in a conversational style, is obviously loose.  Still, I do appreciate the proper use of a colon.  (Wait, that did not come out right.)

I believe I missed National Grammar Day because of all the hoopla at my geeky house about National Square Root Day on March 3rd.  There is also all the anticipation about National Pi Day on March 14th.  (When The Professor told me about that one, I thought he meant PIE.)

Luckily, today is World Book Day,  AND we are still in the middle of Words Matter Week.  Life is Good.

the mail

03 Tuesday Mar 2009

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Today was not the day.  Yesterday wasn’t either.  Each day, I walk to my mailbox wondering if the package I have waited for is going to be there.  I did not realize how long I’ve dreamed of that small brown box, until the day is almost here.

Last August, I submitted a short story to an anthology.  I’ve written, off and on, for years; but no one else ever saw much of my work.  Sending that little story off into the world felt odd, and vulnerable, and slightly silly.

In January, I received an email that my little story would be published.  My heart sang.  I skipped around the house.  The dog barked.  The book comes out in April.  My complimentary copy “will arrive in March”.  I am so excited to hold it in my hands.

It’s not that I’ve been waiting for that package since August, or since January.  I’ve been dreaming of that day at the mailbox since I was young and full of dreams.  My name, next to something I’ve written.  In a book with two covers and lots of pages in between.

There are so many publishing options now.  I could dream of my work published online as an e-book, or self published, or someday on a kindle.  All of those are very, very fine options.  I write a blog, that I’m thankful you have noticed, and I love it.  But this time I want to hold the paper in my hands and smell the ink.  I want to ruffle the pages back and forth and check the table of contents and the list of contributors at the end.  This is a very short story, in an anthology.  But it is mine.  It is my start.

So each day, I walk to the mailbox, and wonder what I will find.  Then it is up to me what I do next.