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...
I submitted a story about my dog Trixie to NYMB. The co-creator, Kathleene Baker, spit an email right back at me. She had read my submission quickly, and immediately sent me a very helpful (and encouraging) message.
Pearl, I know you have cats but do you have any dog stories? Shay, I know you have some Bosco tales to tell. Donna--I imagine you have at least one dog memoir up your sleeve. Tammy, you have gazillions of canine tales. Val--you can give us a rollicking Juno escapade or two, can't you? Lisa, the weiner dogs are always the underdogs. And Lisa, you have Golden Retriever stories, too. The deadline is July 1.
It seems the Not Your Mother's Books are looking for upbeat stories about dogs...whacky stories...funny stories. There is a children's novel entitled No More Dead Dogs, and the main character moans about the fact that if there is a dog's name in the title, don't read the book, because the dog will inevitably die during the story. (Think about it. Old Yeller. My Dog Skip. 'Tis true...)
And my story definitely had a dead dog in it.
Ooops. I am as bad as some of my students. I didn't do my homework very well, and apparently did not check the guidelines for this collection at all very well.
Kathleene said if I rewrote it, and make the story "end" before our beloved Trixie died, they would reconsider it. If I wouldn't, they couldn't.
Thrilled with a second chance, I worked on it for quite a while yesterday evening excited to do anything to avoid working on my report cards . But I got stuck. I wanted to make sure the "spackling" I did was seamless, and I had no idea how I was going to create a satisfying ending. I figured, I would let it sit for a few days. That's my normal MO.
This morning, still trying to avoid working on report cards I still had nothing, so I didn't even plan on opening up the story and working on it. But something made me say to myself, 'Just try. You might come up with something.'
And forcing myself--a little--to just reread the tale so far, and attempt to finish the revision resulted in me being able to finish the story---and submit it.
Of course, Kathleene and NYMB might not like what I did with it. And that's cool. But I prodded myself--poked myself with a stick--and got it done.
How about all my blogging colleagues who have a dog? What is stopping you from submitting? You have a little more than a month left...and as June Carter Cash sang it so well: "Time's a'wastin'."
(I know. I promised the debut of Sioux-on-a-Stick with my next posting, but my life will be so less hectic this week after I stop avoiding the completion of my report cards finish my report cards. So Donna, stop holding your breath. She'll make her appearance...soon.)
