Whine or Wine?

        Several of my writing friends have stories in this collection, among them Linda O'Connell and Donna Volkenannt. The book was edited by Dahlynn and Ken McKowen, and Dianna Graveman. (The anthology includes a story by Dianna as well.) These books will hit the shelves on April 8--a little over a month away.

     My story "More Wine" is about our son. In his teenaged years, d'boy was exasperating  squirrely  unique. His trips in cars often became adventures...and sometimes costly ones. His antics with the marching band were laughable (if he had been someone else's kid). He was suspended once in his junior year of high school...for an unusual transgression.

     Now, he's in his mid-twenties and is awaiting word on acceptance into medical school. He turned all my hair gray and once that mission was accomplished, he straightened up and became a young man I'm extremely proud of.

This is my son on his graduation day
from Drury University a couple of years ago.

         If you have kids, what drove you the furthest over the crazy cliff?

Let It Snow, Let It Snow...And Let the Words Flow

      As much as I've joked about snow storms in March and April and even freaky ones in May (in my hope that we get another snow day or two we get enough precipitation to help our plants this spring), I did not want this one that came in the middle of the night (and it's still snowing). After all, my spring break begins tomorrow and I have family in town and things to do and places to see.

photo by land [e]scape

      But not today. It's too slippery and my car's too low-to-the-ground.

      Today, with me all pumped up and no place to go, and my daughter and son having plans for lunch and a movie (in spite of the snow), I'm writing.

       I began a submission for Publishing Syndicate's Not Your Mother's Book On Cats and I plan on finishing it up today. And then sending it off. (There's a May 1 deadline on those submissions.) 

       I also have a self-proposed deadline. I'm working on a longer project, I'm going on a writing retreat with a wonderful editor-friend in early June, and so I hope to get at least a completed rough draft done by then. (The retreat is at an abbey, so there are no distractions--all weekend!)

       (Part of the story has evolved into a road trip, and I got a Trip-Tik from AAA, so I can research some off-the-beaten track places the characters can stop at along the way. Today seems like an ideal day to make some progress on the plot.) 

          If you're snowed in today, what are you doing? And if you're Lisa or Cathy and you're sippin' on a mint julep right 'bout now, enjoy.

        

     

Shake It Up

      I was working on a submission for Publishing Syndicate's NYMB's series today. (I have a day off from teaching today, due to having parent-teacher conferences this week, which means I have a four-day weekend. Ssssh! Don't tell Val. She will come to my house and poke holes in my tires with an out-of-ink pen.) I haven't done much dating in my life, but not wanting to miss a chance at increasing the number of publication notches on my belt, I thought, 'I miiiight have a story.'

photo by Jen !

It made me think of the song by The Cars:

Dance all night
play all day
don't let nothing get in the way.  
(We have to allow nothing to prevent us from writing.) 
Dance all night
keep the beat
don't you worry 'bout two left feet.
(Make sure your internal "editor" or your fear of having two left thumbs inhibit you.)
Dance all night
get real loose
you don't need no bad excuse.
(Let your writing flow. BIC--butt in chair. Get it down on paper, then you can work on refining it.
Dance all night
with anyone
Don't let nobody pick your fun.(Just do it. Do it by yourself. Do it for you.)
Dance all night
whirl your hair
make the night cats stop and stare.
(Wait. Have you seen my hair after an evening of writing? Scary, right? People utter the word "breathtaking" when they see me, but I also detect a sharp intake of air. What's up with that?)
Dance all night go to work
do the move with the quirky jerk.
(Take an occasional break from writing. Turn on some music. Loud music. (You'll see Cathy C. Hall's husband and me dancing. He might be a wicked-good dancer. I, on the other hand, will doing the "Elaine Benes.") Dance around. Get some circulation to other parts of your body besides your finger--like your butt--and then get back to writing.)

      By shaking things up, I found I did indeed have a dating story. It's not so much about a date, but about nudging someone (my husband) into a first date. It's not a Chicken Soup story--they have a call out for dating stories as well--but its edginess would be right up NYMB's alley...at least I hope so.

      In my story, I did something so embarrassing, I won't be able to reveal what I did until the end of the tale.

      I hope I finish the story. I hope it's accepted. And I hope you will then be compelled to buy the book.

      Until then, shake it up.

      (By the way, I knew of this song, but was not sure of who did it and certainly did not know the lyrics by heart. I had to look it up online. Val the victorian would have known this song and could have quoted the lyrics from memory, I'm sure. Recently, I tried to stump her with some in-the-middle lyrics of a Leo Sayer song. Not his sappiest, and not his most well-known song. I thought I could stump her, but was unable to. If anyone thinks they can flummox her in the area of movies, TV shows or songs, please challenge her. She must be taken down a notch!)

I'm a Woman...W-O-M-A-N, I'll Say It Again

      How much mileage can you get out of a scraped scalp? Apparently a lot.

     A year or so ago, I got my head caught in the sink at work. I was trying to save $5. Washing my hair so I wouldn't have to pay my hair stylist an extra fee... After the shampooing was finished, I was going to drive quickly to my appointment, so my hair would still be damp when I arrived.

      That was the plan, anyhow. Since the sink was incredibly small, the faucet was huge (and apparently I was incredibly cheap), it ended up a bit of a mess.

        Because.

        My head.

        Got.

        StuckanditwasaonestallbathroomandIhaddeadbolteditsoIwasREALLYstuck!

         Within the last week, I've gotten the news that Mozark Press is publishing my fictionalized story of this hair-raising experience. My blogging buddy Lisa Ricard Claro and my fellow WWWP (Wild Women Wielding Pens) Linda O'Connell also have stories in this anthology. 

          Today I got an email telling me my nonfiction version is going to be part of Publishing Syndicate's first book in the Not Your Mother's Book series; it's titled On Being a Woman and will be released on October 9.

           See? A bit of flesh left on a faucet goes a long way...

         What kind of tidbit of life experience have you used in several ways--morphing it for various publications or contests? Or What was the stupidest thing you ever did?(Getting my head held hostage by a faucet is not one of my brighter moments, for sure.)

Better Than a Rottweiler...

        The days are cooling off, which means--in our neighborhood--a flood of Jehovah's Witnesses will start their knocking anew. I apologize if you are of that faith, but since you wouldn't let me rollerblade on your parking lot, I don't want you on my front stoop.

      Often, signs on the door do nothing to deter. Neither do dogs. But Tammy comes rushing to the rescue. She has the perfect assortment of signage; you choose the message, the style, and she'll handcraft them to match your home's motif.

      What kind of message can you send to bothersome door-knockers? Check them out here.

      Also, I recently got news that two (which means I need to use two fingers, and not just my all-time favorite one) of my stories will appear in Not Your Mother's Book on Dogs--"A Power Higher Than the Law" and "Heart of Pure Gold." Kathleene Baker has been a delightful editor to work with. She's bent over backwards to ensure that 1) enough details were changed in one of the stories so I wouldn't be thrown into jail (I committed a felony) and 2) I was happy with any changes/cuts that were made. I was actually looking forward to some time in prison--unlimited time to read, no lesson plans to write, no cooking or cleaning to do--but that will have to wait for another day.

       This was my turn to crow. How 'bout you?  What do you want to shout from the rooftops? It could be writing-related, or it could be something along the lines of, "I am so proud, my buttons are about to pop off. I ate only half of the bag of Dove chocolates, instead of the whole freakin' bag. What's that you say? You think it's my poochy gut and not my pride that's causing my buttons to fly off like missiles? Why, you little..."

        Go ahead. Yell it, scream it, whisper it. We're listening...

Good News, Bad News, You Choose Your News

         On Monday I got some good news. Becky Haigler, of Silver Boomer Books, sent me a contract for my poem, "No Need for a Card." Their book, A Quilt of Holidays will be published sometime this fall, in time for...well, in time for the holidays, silly.

        Now for the bad news. Last night I went to Open Mic night at the Kirkwood Train Station. Linda O'Connell invited her WWWPs, and when I heard that Marcia Gaye would be reading, it was like icing on the cake--or for a more concrete connection, like extra malt powder in my malt--because Marcia hardly ever reads her stuff. (Marcia had won first prize in the SLWG's poetry contest.)

     I read the following piece, which is where the bad news comes in. Some things we mourn are unavoidable. Some grieving cannot be helped, and our lost youth is one of them.

      Be prepared. You will sniff and cry and sob...

Getting older was something I longed for---

Free choices—I needed so many more.

I grew up too fast,

My parents were aghast,

And my youth…gone for evermore.

Twenty-something, I was fit and thin

I even had only one chin!

Things were where they belonged

(I could still wear a thong)

But no! Granny pants still made me grin.

In my thirties things started to migrate

How many of you ladies can relate?

My gut got a bit flabbio

(Now I’d never snag Fabio!)

Thank god! Elastic was there to accommodate.

Once I hit forty things had gone all awry

I needed glasses for both of my eyes.

My mustache I couldn’t see

Nor my growing goatee,

Without a mirror that could magnify.

In my fifties, I’ve let everything go.

My gut is now like risen bread dough.

I can now tuck in my pants,

What I used to enhance,

And my butt needs its own private bungalow.

So ladies—and gents—here’s my advice.

Growing old ain’t all sugar and spice.

Enjoy life as it comes

Savor every last crumb

And good looks…they’re so overpriced.

And now, for the "you choose your news" part of this post.  Not Your Mother's Books is looking for your stories. They're seeking stories more twisted than Chicken Soup tales. Put the fun in dysfunctional and submit.

You never know. That little vignette you send off could result in your story getting published. And then you'll have good news to share soon...

I'm Topless...and My Son's in a Speedo

     My story "Half Right" has made it over the first hurdle at Publishing Syndicate. It takes place during a trip I took to France with my teenaged son...and the tale involves me going topless and my son having to wear a speedo. Doesn't that make you want to gouge your mind's eye out run out and buy a copy, once it's available?

    Of course, it might not make it through the final rounds. And that's okay, because this post is to encourage more submissions.  There are several calls for submissions, and the deadlines are coming up soon.

• On Being a Woman--July 1
• On Dogs--July 1
• On Holidays--July 1
• On Travel--August 1
• On Being a Stupid Kid--August 1
• On Family--October 1
• On Being a Mom--October 1

       Most of the bloggers I follow are women, so I know you have countless stories to share. Most of the people I like are dog people (or cat people--there's an anthology for them, too). Everybody has had whacky or screwed-up or warm holiday memories. Everybody did stupid things when they were a kid. Now's your chance to make some money and gain some notoriety over your antics, to counteract the trouble you got into decades ago. Look at the titles. Think "edgy." Look at the guidelines, and submit...
       

Recycle! Recycle! Recycle!

       

      
        
         A long time ago--probably decades--I read that freelancers recycle. They take a story or an article, rework it to give it a different spin, and submit it to another market. Even if it's been published, once you rewrite it and give it a new focus, it's a new piece. That advice never left me.

      I figured it was a frugal way to spend one's writing time, but I never knew just how jazzed I would get about it until this week.

     This week I have been busy submitting to the new collections that are called Not Your Mother's Books. And here is how I am recycling:

• My son and his trumpet. It's a Chicken Soup story, and also a couple of submissions for "Not Your Mother's Book--On Being a Mom" or "On Family." I'm taking his practicing--that torture is the center of its own story--and when he was in marching band and had to deal with his long hair, and when he played in college and needed to buy a tux at the last minute and the freaky way he dressed going to his weekly trumpet lessons. One subject, lots of stories. (And shouldn't the kid who made me addicted to hair dye be the subject of money-making stories?)
• My adoption. It's going to be a CS story for parenthood (I hope) and I've also spun it into a NYMB story.
• My body's rapid decline. I have already submitted a story about what happens to breasts during menopause. (What a fun, versatile accessory they are now!) My stomach is pushing itself forward, trying to get its due attention. Then there's facial hair--on women. The topics are endless.

        How do YOU make the best of your writing time? Do you recycle? Share, please. 

Fireblossom? Val? Lisa? Katie? Kathy and Her Clothesline? They Want YOU.

         I am busily mining nuggets from my life--hot flashes, pesky children, good-for-not-much dogs--and am submitting to some of these anthologies. And there is something for everyone.

RV adventures  (Kathy, I know you have a boatload of those)
Alternative Lifestyles
Mom
Family
Celebrity Encounters (Katie--You had that encounter with Paul Newman, and it's
                                    a wonderful story)
Dogs (Fireblossom--How about getting your spirits to spin a story about Bosco?
          Lisa--You have scads of dog "tails," I know.)
Cats
Military Life (Linda--You have some side-splitting tales that they'd jump on.
College
Menopause
Cats
Holidays
Travel
Writing (Fireblossom--This would be an opportunity to impart some of your
              wisdom about writing, since you usually are so stingy with it;)

Two wonderful St. Louis writers--Linda O'Connell and Dianna Graveman--are developing two of the titles--"On Mom" and "On Family." If you'd like to see the website and find out more information, click on here.