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.)