February Wrap Up

February was a wasted 28 days as far as my writing was concerned.

I only completed 11,474 words of the serial and I needed about 7,000 more to reach my goal. I didn't keep track of how much time I spent writing as I could barely keep track of anything. I had 1 short story acceptance to Wildchild Magazine, 1 poem accepted to Penwomanship and 1 poem accepted to Zygote In My Coffee. I also submitted two book reviews for publication under a pen name in the Midwest Review. I've also been invited to do book reviews for Curledup.com (thanks Devon Ellington!).

I had my share of rejections:1 poem to Big Ugly Fiction and 4 poems to Eclectica Magazine. New submissions included 1 short story to Collected Stories, 1 poem to Binnacle Prose Competition, 4 poems to Failbetter Magazine, 1 short story to Solander, and 1 essay to Charlotte Parent.

I decreased my weekly word count goal on the serial to 4500 from 6000. This pushes the completion date to 6/26/2005. I'm toying with turning my first novel (not a bad piece, just alot of newbie errors) into a serial on KIC. By doing this is would keep me working on it, keep me at KIC as I don't plan to renew my contract in April for the historical fiction piece and rewriting a novel into a serial doesn't sound like as much work as writing the darn thing from scratch.

I'm looking forward to March. I finished issue 67 of the serial today and I hope to finish issue 68 and the last issue of the year 1862 this evening while the girls are at their ballet class.

My word goals for March are 22,500. These are lofty based on past performance so I must stay focused. I also need to edit the KIC poetry column and write a proposal for KIC for Hope River, if I decide to take the serial route for my first novel.

Wish me luck.

Looking Forward to a More Productive Week

I plan to make this week a bit more productive than weeks past. I have no grand plan as to how I will accomplish this but I plan nonetheless.

I had two poetry rejections with weekend. One from Big Ugly Fiction for my poem LOST and one from Eclectica Magazine for 4 of my poems. I also followed up on a short story to Solander and found they were still considering it for publication. I'll take that as good news.

My outstanding submissions are:

1 poem to Skyline Magazine (submitted 8/20/2004)
1 short story to Mid-South Review (submitted 10/14/2004)
1 poem to Maelstrom (submitted 10/28/2004)
1 poem to Evergreen Review (submitted 11/15/2004)
1 short story to Collected Stories (submitted 1/27/2005)
1 poem to River Walk Journal (submitted 1/27/2005)
1 poem to Binnacle Prose Competition (submitted 1/31/2005)
4 poems to Failbetter Magazine (submitted 2/22/2005)

I finished issue 66 of the serial tonight. I plan to finish issues 67 and 68 tomorrow.

BK

No, I DIDN'T Finish Issue 66

I am not worthy of being a writer. I haven't written a darn thing all week. Now the weekend is looming and I have three issues to get written, edited and sent to the editor. I am so disgusted with myself.

Is laziness in the stars? The moon? The seasons? In my head? Is it my lifestyle? Am I not taking this seriously enough? I haven't had any chocolate for awhile. Could that be the culprit? Whatever the reason, I must battle complacency and move on. I mean really move on. What is the use in setting goals when I don't really feel any accomplishment when I achieve them? What a whiny loser I've become.

As a manufacturer front line supervisor (yeah, I crashed into the glass ceiling very early in my career) I know all the buzz words about motivation, impacts of negative behavior, focus on the task, goal setting, importance of teamwork, blah blah blah and I use many of the techniques I learned on my kids with usually positive results. Why then, can I not use them on myself? Perhaps I'm on to the lie. Manipulation tactics have been used for centuries by an elite few over the masses. The Catholic Church has a tremendous amount of history on this if one is so inclined to read it for themselves. (Please don't email me about slamming the church. I attend Mass more often than half the Catholics in my parish so I don't want to hear it!)

Whatever the problem is I must find a way to solve it. I have deadlines.

I edited two senior thesis papers - one on the influence of the media on teenagers and one of teenage alcohol abuse. Both were very interesting. At first I didn't buy that this generation is more exposed to the "positives" of alcohol - i.e. makes you more grown up, looks cool, etc. - but the more I read the more I tend to agree. No one my age was exposed to Nelly in music videos surrounded by half-naked gyrating women, draped in all his bling bling, driving fancy cars and his hand wrapped around a cool drink. What teenage boy wouldn't want to emulate that? I'm not slamming the artist but it does make you wonder what message this is sending. But then again, I do recall Motley Crue's Girls Girls Girls. Maybe I'm just a dried up old prune out of touch with today's youth. Gosh I hope so!

BK

Happy Birthday Joey

My baby turns twelve today. I’m not sure how I feel about it. On one hand, he’s grown into a very responsible, caring, intelligent and handsome kid, but on the other hand I’d give almost anything to be able to scoop him up in my arms and hold him one more time. He was a beautiful baby, unfortunately he inherited his father’s meaty head and a cesarean was done.

I can still picture him, a fringy cap of dark down hair, piercing blue eyes alert and ever-watching and the cutest little bottom a mother ever had the pleasure of changing. I can remember his bouts of crying that lasted from about 6pm to around 10pm every night and holding him in my arms for another hour after he fell asleep, wiping the occasional tear that rolled down his chubby flushed cheek. I was too afraid to put him down as any movement could send him wailing for an additional hour. As far as mothering went – I was the pediatrician’s worst nightmare – I slept with him next to my side because my husband traveled so much and when he did sleep in his crib, I put him on his stomach. He began eating cereal at about 9 weeks because as a 10 lb 3 oz baby at birth, formula and breast milk just wasn’t cutting it. I won’t even go into the chronic ear infections and countless sleepless nights.

I fondly recall his first belly-laugh when he spit green beans all over my face, the first time I changed his diaper and he peed on me, the way he crawled dragging one leg behind him, the way he watched the same Sesame Street video over and over again, the way I fretted because all the other babies his age were walking but he still preferred to crawl, the first time he sang the ABC song and Baa Baa Black Sheep, taking him to his first movie (The Lion King), the Batman birthday party he had when he was two, his first battery powered jeep and how he tooled around behind his dad when he mowed the grass, how small he looked on his first day of kindergarten, the smile when he learned how to ride his bike, etc. I could go on forever. Sure there were times when he wasn't remotely angelic, but those times are lost to me.

He is the first of my four angels and he slips away daily – to his room with the door shut doing his homework, off playing in the neighborhood with this friends, away at ball practice or focused on the latest video game. At this age, it’s not cool to be seen with your mom, no matter how cool mom thinks she is.

As I type this, my eyes fill with tears – of pride of who he’s become, of longing for a time long past and the fear of one day my baby will go off into the world to make his own way. I hope every mom of a young one who reads this will give their baby a hug (and give them one for me too!).

On a positive note, he still likes to be tucked in at night and I still find myself cutting his meat. Oh, and he asked for a Dairy Queen ice cream cake so I suppose I’ll be strapping on the feed sack tonight.

He also has Human Growth and Development Class this Saturday. How's that for innocence lost?

Well, tonight I must write issue 66. I’ve been writing about writing issue 66 all week long and I still haven’t opened my notebook. The birthday boy has his athletic banquet tonight and I have to take the girls to the batting cages. BUT WHEN I GET HOME I’M GOING TO WRITE (dammit!)

A Big Fat Waste of Space . . .

I wanted to write today but I "dicked" around with my website instead. I like the new look with the earthy colors and a banner of the trees behind my Grandma's house. (I KNOW I'm not supposed to capitalize grandma when used in this context but she was 93 when she died and deserves the props).

I still haven't touched issue 66 and I have to finish it along with issues 67 and 68 this week - but not tonight.

I'm not a mathematian or anything. I know 1 + 1 = 2 and Pi = 3.14, and is the diameter of a circle divided by the radius. I also know that 4 kids * (1 outfit per day * 4 days) = a helluva lot of dirty laundry. I do it all on Sunday and by Wednesday it explodes. So here I go with five loads tonight. It's not like a have a miniscule washer - nope, I'm the proud owner of a Kenmore Mac-Daddy complete with a tub I could fit inside of. I really don't understand.

Well another load is done.

BK

Congratulations to a Fellow Writer

A writer "friend" of mine has received the distinguished honor of having his short story nominated for the Million Writers Award Notable Stories of 2004. I, along with a few others on my writers' forum had the pleasure of reading this story last year and the award is well deserved.

Congratulations Mark Vender!

Here is the link to his work:

http://www.summersetreview.org/04fall/antipodes.htm

Also, congratulations to all the other artists who made the list.

My story, A Soldier's Story, was nominated by me and a few other people with now twisted arms but alas, it didn't make the list. There's always next year.

My poem, Elsewhere, will be published in issue 35 of Zygote In My Coffee. It is funny how the truly scathing pieces of my poetry that are neglected by the mainstream are picked up and loved by these fine folks in the UK.

I submitted four poems to Eclectica Magazine and four poems to Failbetter Magazine. I also sent a note to Solander Magazine regarding a short story I sent them last October. I hate to be a pest but if they didn't like it, then just let me know.

I didn't get any writing done yesterday but today I must finish issue 66 of the serial. I plan to get through issue 68 by Sunday.

On the book review front, I have requested In The Land Of Second Chances, by George Schaffner and Waterbourne by Bruce Murkoff from the library to review for Midwest Book Review in April. I'll also be reviewing The Memory of Running by Ron McLarty and The Gnostic Gospels of Jesus: The Definitive Collection of Mystical Gospels & Secret Books About Jesus of Nazareth by Marvin Meyer. Whew, it's a good thing I love to read!

I sometimes wonder if I'm attempting to be something I'm not. I'm a loner and not gregarious in the least. I despise the part of Mass on Sunday where the congregation has to shake one another's hand and say "Peace Be With You." I don't mind wishing a stranger peace, but must I shake their hand? I also prefer to sit at ball practices with my nose in a book or with my pencil and notebook. My husband made the comment that I look like a snob. So just so I'm clear with myself, here is what I am:

1. I am 5'3" tall with dirty blonde hair streaked with gray which is artistically hidden by the best hairdresser in the city.
2. I am a wife of one husband and a mother of four children, one cat and one dog.
3. I am a part time employee for a fulfillment / distribution center.
4. I am a pickup-truck-driving-rough-around-the-edges gal who can clean up right nice.
5. I love New Age, Classical and Celtic music and many Soundtrack arrangments. I also like a bit of Alternative and a pinch of Country
6. I believe in Heaven Hell and all points in-between.
7. I don't take kindly to bullshit, liars, cheaters or thieves, and I'll let you know when I hear it or see one.
8. I'm an average cook and house cleaner, but I can make a mean Bourbon Slushy.
9. I'm a germ phobe, who washes her hands at least 20 times a day.
10. There are times when need my mouth washed out with soap.
11. I'm guilty of doing one or more stupid thing a day.
12. I'm devoted, caring and loyal to those I love and a hell of an actress to those I don't.
13. I'm a LONER who is a WRITER - now get off my back.

All right, I feel much better now that I have that off my chest.

BK

Not Dead . . . But Seriously Wounded

I managed to finish issues 64 and 65 of the serial and send them off to the editor. I have about 400 words of issue 66 handwritten and I hope to finish it tonight. As of today, I'm still nine issues ahead of my subscribers but I'm behind on my GDR's for February. Oh well, at least I haven't given up altogether. I have three more issues to complete before I end the year of 1862. Willie is growing up.

Speaking of growing up, my oldest son turns twelve this week. He's only about an inch shorter than I am now and will probably be taller than me by summer. He was a big baby, 10 lbs 3 oz, and truly a beautiful one. If they had digital cameras back in the day, I'd post one of his baby pictures.

When he turned ten I was a basket case as the realization that half of his life in my home was over washed over me like a bad dream. In 8 years I'd be sending him off to college. UNC Chapel Hill is his current college of choice.

My oldest daughter will be ten the first of March. I'm stocking up on the tissues because once again, half of her life with me at home is over and I'll be a blubbering mess. In 8 years I'll be sending her off to college and UNC Chapel Hill is also her college of choice. I swear I get more depressed about their birthdays than I do my own.

I finally purchased the soundtrack to Master and Commander. LOVE IT! I need a new CD player for my truck but that's a bit down on the priority list. My garage door opener went beserk and started opening and closing all by itself. I'll probably have to get a new one. UGGGH!

Basketball season is over for three of the four kids. I hated to see them lose but it is nice not to rush around for a couple of weeks. The girls have ballet this afternoon but my husband just called and said they were going to the movies. Oh well, sometimes it is nice just to abandon all responsibilities and go to the movies.

I'm not as focused as I should be with my writing or with anything else. It like I'm walking around with "white noise" in my head just like in the old days when the album was over and the needle on the record player popped and cracked against the smooth part of the vinyl on the inner part of the record.

I know I need to get back on track, but I'm not sure how. It is times like this I wish a had a pinch of pixie dust which I'd sprinkle to get the creativity flowing. Alas, there is no magic to put the words on paper - only me. My only advice to myself is to stay strong, be committed and have diligence.

I've stated before, when it comes to writing I can only work on one project at a time. I calculated that issue 105 will be the last issue of the serial and that means 40 issue more and then I'm done. The good news is I'm 62% complete. I should be finished by mid-May.

BK

It's Do Or Die

IF I don't get issue 64 typed and edited, plus write, type and edit 65 and 66 today, I will get behind both with my subscribers and my GDR's.

I spent mid-morning after church cleaning out all the kids' things from my office, rearranged my bookshelf and took out the trash. Believe it or not I have three 6' x 2' book cases full of books. Two of the bottom shelves are kids books, one shelf of Lemony Snicket and Harry Potter, two shelves are of family photo albums, eight shelves are of my aunt's mystery books and two shelves are of my books. I also have two full shelves at my workstation covered with a few fiction books and all of my reference books.

I updated my submission log and here are my outstanding submissions:

1 poem to Skyline Magazine (submitted 8/20/2004)
1 short story to Mid-South Review (submitted 10/14/2004)
1 poem to Maelstrom (submitted 10/28/2004)
1 poem to Big Ugly Fiction (submitted 10/30/2004)
1 poem to Evergreen Review (submitted 11/15/2004)
1 poem to Penwomanship (submitted 12/27/2004)
1 short story to Collected Stories (submitted 1/27/2005)
1 poem to River Walk Journal (submitted 1/27/2005)
1 poem to Binnacle Prose Competition (submitted 1/31/2005)

So far since July 2004, I have 22 acceptances and 17 rejections. I also have two book reviews coming out in the March issue of Midwest Book Review under the pen name of Catherine Ekbert.

Today in church I really absorbed the meaning of the words the faithful recite without thought every Sunday. I've come to the conclusion I really don't believe in the resurrection of the body. I believe in God, energy, continuation of life and the living soul, but quite honestly when my body is put in the ground I really don't want it back. I wonder if others question these words or they were raised with such rigorous devotion, they just except it as truth just as they accept wearing pants every day. I apologize if this statement offends anyone.

Today I'm listening to three CD's - Enya Watermark, Daughters of the Celtic Moon and a Celtic CD I burned from freebies on Amazon.

I believe enough cobwebs are cleared now, so I must write.

BK

Finally . . . A Moment To Myself

The kids only had a half day of school yesterday and they're out until Tuesday, 2/22. UGHHH! A few days is fine but soon I'll get the dreaded comments of "I'm bored" or "There's nothing to do around here!" and "Can so and so come over?". Now, I know "so and so" is Satan masquerading as a child and then the whining commences when I say no.

Yesterday I spent the morning in district court for the traffic violation I received from the helpful officer back in December (see blog dated December 22 for the full scoop!). I arrived at 8:40 am and stood in line with the rest of the "perps" who were scheduled for Wednesday.

The officer (baliff?) took all of our pink sheets and herded us into the court room like cattle. I was seated beside a tall gentlemen with hair like Coolio and another gentlemen whom can be appropriately described as "Bubba", and listened for our names to be called. Thankfully my name was called around 9:30 as there were hundreds of people inside that small room and at last a hundred more in line outside.

I went before the Prosecuting Attorney who just so happened to grow up on the same street I live on. After a short chat about the neighborhood and the Yankee who purchased the house (he still seemed a might bitter) he dismissed my case and I walked out a free woman! I NEVER want to go through that again.

The whole experience tooks it's toll and a migraine did me in shortly thereafter. I missed my youngest son's basketball game but his last game isn't until Saturday and then it's off to the banquet and POW, I'm done.

I was flipping through the kids folders and all the handouts on Black History Month. I'm glad the kids are learning about how African-Americans shaped our country and our world. I'm also pleased to see the compassion they have in their eyes when they "educate me" with the horrors of slavery and oppression by whites. It is this compassion that tells me I've done something right.

Today, I had to get out of the house for a few hours while the housekeeper cleaned. I'm seriously thinking about cleaning my own house. My kids are old enough to help out and it would save $360.00 / mo.

Penwomanship will be publishing my poem, Santuary, in an upcoming issue. I also heard from Curledup.com concerning book reviews. I plan to do two a month for curled up and two per month for Midwest Book Review - under a pen name of course.

Tonight I MUST get issue 64 of the serial finished. Tomorrow I need to write issue 65 and 66.

BK

Finding My Way Back To The Written Path

I'm beginning to get back on track. I've written and typed about 1/2 of issue 64 of the serial and I have the rest of the week off so perhaps I might succeed with four issues.

I submitted two poems to e-zines this morning and chose two books from the book review list to do book reviews under a pen name. I tried to choose books that I thought I'd like, but my taste in literature is so abnormal, most of the books I like end up on the clearance tables at most bookstores.

I was greeted with more (not only in additional to, but more of) dog puke this morning. I ended up taking her little cage mattress outside and hosing it off with water. I felt bad for getting angry but for HEAVENS SAKE! Enough all ready. This morning I didn't care if it dried at all, but now I hope the sun comes out enough to dry it. Nope, once again, I didn't receive any courtesy call and the even though the bribe jumped to ten dollars, my son wasn't having any part of it.

I have to go to traffic court tomorrow for my citation for a dead registration. I have to be there at 9 am with $150.00 in tow in case the judge makes me pay the darn fine. I hope it doesn't take too long because the kids only have a half day at school tomorrow which means I must be out in time to pick them up from school at 11:45 am. I plan to have my notebook because there will certainly be some unique characters and drama abound. On a good note, I sent away for my Driving Record. Wow, have I been a good girl! Only one instance on my record and that was in September of 1996 and it wasn't my fault.

On the American Bookseller Association, there is a new Idea Exchange Forum, but you have to be a member. What writer wouldn't love to be a "fly on the wall" in there.

I am so out of touch. I had no idea Oprah chose The Good Earth by Pearl S. Buck for her newest book club read until I saw mountains of paperbacks in Barnes and Noble with the Oprah "seal" on the cover. Now, I love Oprah, but to run "paperback" (*gasp*) editions of this classic with this tacky red seal on it seems like literary heresy to me. I still have my old dusty hardcover that I purchased from The Pearl S. Buck Birthplace a hundred years ago (just fooling but it does seem like forever). I can remember wrapping my arms around this treasure as if it were worth millions and taking in the fresh ink and paper smell. Oprah's done soooo much for the publishing world and worldwide womens issues, I'll have to let her slide a bit.

Pearl is my inspiration and since we were born in the same hills of Appalachia I consider her a kindred spirit of sorts. She was able to escape the drugery of those hills earlier in life than I did but I knew what I wanted to do with my life the moment I read her work. I sometimes wonder if she ever missed the tranquility of the mountains the way that I do.

Tonight is my son's final school basketball game. He woke up with an upset stomach last night and threw up a couple of bucketfulls before he fell back to sleep (perhaps he caught it from the DOG!). I felt really bad for him this morning as I knew he was still sick, but school rules say that if a player doesn't come to school then he can't play in the game. He went on to class with his butt dragging. I told him to call me if he didn't feel like staying and I'd make something up. I haven't got a call yet.

BK

Happy Valentine's Day

Some girls get candy from their sweethearts, others get flowers. I got to clean up the dog puke in the dog's cage that my hubby so graciously left for me. He has an extremely weak stomach and I know whenever a child or a pet "gets juicy" I'm the one with the carpet cleaner and the roll of paper towels.

It's Monday and I'm running late. Can I at least get a courtesy call from the road alerting me that it is there? I tried to get my oldest son to clean it up but he was having no part of it. I even tried to bribe him with my last five dollars. It wasn't enough. I was ten minutes late for work but no one noticed.

I think I'm done with the edits for Wildchild Publishing. My short story, Caught In The Middle will be published in their March issue. Their editors are awesome. I worked with Faith on A Soldier's Story (September 2004, Editor's Choice Award Winner) and Molly O'Brien (October 2004) but since she's out, I've been working with Barry. They are first class all the way.

Basketball season is winding down, thank goodness. My oldest son's school team in already in their end of season tournament and his church team will begin theirs this weekend, as will my oldest daughter. My youngest son has two more games and no tourney and my youngest daughter has about four more games left.

Gee, then baseball / softball season is here! AHHHHHHHH!

February in the Carolina's means the return of those Canadian Geese. They are a beautiful bird to look at but mighty aggressive when they want to be and are prone to leave a foul green mess on the sidewalks throughout the city. I suppose the sidewalk is better than my truck.

As I was leaving for work I saw a couple (yes in a romantic sense be it that they mate for life) outside in the pouring rain standing as if it was the most beautiful day yet. I was mesmerized by their lack of concern over being soaked and I sort of envied their freedom. No filters, no right way to go about their day, no politics or faces to keep up - just walking in the rain just because it was there.

I didn't put my umbrella up to shield myself from the cutting wind and pelting rain. I walked into the elements just as bare as those geese and let the rain come down. Yes, it was cold, but I relished it instead of pulling my sweater around my neck. I walked a normal pace and let it wash over me. I was soaked by the time I reached my truck and my hair was dripping for most of the way home. But the sense of being totally free was amazing. Perhaps I'll watch those geese more often.

My husband has a case of the crud (slang for flu at our house) so the kids are not to go near him and they are to wash their hands a minimum of 100 times a day. I don't want to be mean but I also can't have everyone with the flu. Talk about a horror story!

But back into the grind. My 1st grader has a spelling test tomorrow so I'm off to help him study. The words for this week are: owl, sour, mouse, brown, flower.

BK

I Had A Cave In

But not in the physical sense. I can recall blogging about the free time I'd have after I went part time at my day job. It was great for awhile, but lately more and more is being asked of me and my time. What is the deal?

First of all my three days of work turned into four. I had a weak moment when my manager asked me if this was possible. That still leaves me with Friday's alone for most of the day.

I set out to write Friday. I was alone with my computer and my inspiration was there. But nothing. So I packup up my crap, drove to Barnes and Noble, grabbed a venti from Starbucks and eeked out the rest of Issue 63 and part of Issue 64.

That was it! I typed up Issue 63 and sent it out this evening. This week has been a total loss with only one issue of the serial sent to the editor.

I haven't heard anything more from any of my submissions. The submission to NFG was sent back to me due to problems with their website though:

1 poem to Skyline Magazine (submitted 8/20/2004)
1 short story to Mid-South Review (submitted 10/14/2004)
1 poem to Maelstrom (submitted 10/28/2004)
1 poem to Big Ugly Fiction (submitted 10/30/2004)
1 poem to Evergreen Review (submitted 11/15/2004)
1 poem to Penwomanship (submitted 12/27/2004)
1 short story to Collected Stories (submitted 1/27/2005)
1 poem to River Walk Journal (submitted 1/27/2005)
1 poem to Binnacle Prose Competition (submitted 1/31/2005)

I really have to focus this week. I've come to realize that my multi-tasking abilities when doing physical things (like opening the blinds while I'm brushing my teeth in the morning, doing the girls hair while checking my son's math homework, packing lunches and making breakfast at the same time, etc) does not spill over into my writing. But now with two book reviews to Midwest Review and May's poetry column off to the editor I can focus on the serial.

My goal for this week is to write at least three issues of the serial and I'm hoping for four. We'll see how this works.

BK

Must. . .*gasp* . . .Focus

I've been working on everything but what I need to get done this week. I've finished the poetry column for the May issue of KIC magazine. I read an entire book last night and wrote a review today. It did help that the book was awesome but I'm mad because I forgot Lost was on. I've been nursing a killer headache since Tuesday and the kids have kept me hopping. The bottom of my writing bag is full of gameboy games so I think it's time to clean out the clutter again.

I have tomorrow off and although I plan to have lunch with some old friends, I have to get issues 63 and 64 of the serial completed.

I just feel like I need a three hour massage and a three day nap. My head hurts, I have muscle spasms in my neck and shoulder and I . . . .I know, I need to quit whining.

BK

Today I'm Struggling

I'm struggling with issue 63. It's not flowing as I wished it would. I hope to get it done tonight, as the kids have nothing going on. I still need to write issue 64 and 65 also, and my boss wants me to work tomorrow. Ugh!

My boss just came in and informed me I screwed up a report to IBM pretty bad. Oh well, it happens. I tried to sound apologetic and remorseful but I truly don't give a poop. I hope she bought it.

I haven't heard anything from any of my submissions. My submission to Skyline Publishing is almost 5 months old. I'll give it another month and then I'll reject them. The good news is, every short story I've written has been published. One of them has been published twice. The bad news is I'm out of short stories. I have no new material and I don't see any time to write anything until the serial is completed. I've got a short story notebook to jot down any ideas that come my way.

I drafted my next Keep It Flowing column for May and posted it on my writers forum for feedback. Everyone was such a tremendous help last time, I couldn't resist.

Before I forget, I've had several emails requesting my bourbon slushie. Here it is:

1 12 oz frozen orange juice
1 12 oz frozen lemonade
4 cups of strong hot tea
1/2 5th of bourbon - I prefer Jack Daniels
5 cups of hot water

Mix all ingredients in a large bowl until the frozen orange juice and lemonade are dissolved. Cover and freeze for at least twenty-four hours.

When ready to serve, fill drinking up with the slush and then cover with ginger ale. Drink responsibly.

BK

People Watching

I’ve been watching people lately - at work, during my drive and all the other places my role as mom and keeper of domestic tranquility take me. Sometimes I wonder if anyone is really in there or if they’ve gone elsewhere and left their bodies in charge of going through the motions. Empty eyes, voices with no passion, bodies caught in repetitive motion. Everywhere I see exhaustion, complacency, and a perceived loss of power. I hear people complaining about this situation or that situation but when asked “So, what are you going to do about it?” they balk. “Who? Me?”

Well, yes you! Aren’t you the one unhappy? Pick one area of your life that you wish were different and focus on it. That’s how I began to write again. Something was missing but what it would take to fill the void was overwhelming to me at the time. I started with one word and then added another, and another. The result was a novel that was nowhere near written well enough to be published, but I tried to market it anyway. I secured a mid-tier agent who suggested revisions and then it went on the publisher’s tour – and tanked. Yes, I was angry, depressed and all those other words that describe the emotions a writer feels. But I had written a novel and the feeling of accomplishment was overwhelming.

I try to point this perception at myself and see what I have to complain about and where I can take charge. One instance in my personal life involves my youngest daughter. She’s ready for a new challenge in softball but due to her young age, the people in charge feel they must hold her back. So, instead of listening to those “people in charge” I’ve found another place for her to be challenged and said goodbye to those “people in charge.”

There are no hard feelings and no looking back. I have respect for rules and the people who make these rules but I’m not involving myself in petty politics. Sure, it will be an inconvenience in sorts because both of my boys play at the same fields and now my daughter is 10 miles down the road at another field. I’m not worried about managing the commute and I’m proud I stuck to my word. I told these folks last fall, she wasn’t going to play another season of 8U (8 and under) softball. She wasn’t being challenged and it is boring as hell. I put on her application that she is to play 10U ball this season but since there are barely enough girls signed up to make two teams, she will have to play down. NOPE, don’t think so – buh bye!

Another area where I’m not excelling is in the amount of time I spend writing. I need MORE, MORE, MORE!

I finished the edits for Caught in the Middle for Wildchild Publishing. I still need to write 3 issues of the serial this week and draft my poetry column. Oh and there’s the book review. I’ll get it done somehow but I won’t be working on Thursday or Friday.

BK

Now I Know How An Agent Feels. . . .

It had an intriguing title. The story piqued my interest. But the writing was awful - using there instead of their, you're when your was the appropriate word, sole instead of soul, riddled with adverbs, repetitive words and a bit of cheesy dialogue at the end. I was so disappointed. I had high hopes for this story.

This morning I put on my submissions editor hat and I shouldn't have wasted my energy. But I suppose I should feel better about my writing . . . or is my writing just NOT as bad as the others? Now I'm worried.

I received the edits back from the editor at WCP for Caught in the Middle. I wrote this piece last July or so and thank goodness my writing has improved since then. But too bad I didn't really read through the piece before I submitted. It's going to be great when I'm done. I'll probably get this edited tonight.

I already received three telephone calls from friends asking me if I tried to kill them yesterday. To all of those at the Superbowl Party yesterday - I'M SORRY I MADE THE BOURBON SLUSHIES TOO STRONG. I'M SORRY YOU HAVE A STOMACH ACHE AND THE SHITS. I'M SORRY YOUR HEAD IS POUNDING AND YOU CAN'T STRAY FROM THE TOILET LONG ENOUGH TO SEARCH FOR THE TYLENOL. I'M SORRY YOU WERE LATE FOR WORK OR DIDN'T MAKE IT AT ALL. I'M SORRY THE EAGLES LOST. Can you get off my back now? Geesh!

I hope to finish issue 63 of the serial today. That will be one down and 2 to go for the week. I also have to finish my Poetry Column which I've currently titled - Writing From The Heart. I'll be working in my favorite poem by my favorite poet, Nochipa.

Okay, I did it. I am finally eligible for the National Endowment For The Arts Creative Writing Literature Fellowship. I said eligible, but I'm probably not a serious contender. I have to get one more clip copied then my application is done. I'll have to get a box because there is NO WAY all of this is going to fit in any sort of envelope. Hey, a gal can dream can't she?

BK

Weekly Update

I haven't had much time to write this weekend. Saturday was a mess of basketball games and practice, but at least I didn't have to cook.

Today was "mountains of laundry" day, but I managed to polish issues 61 and 62 and send to the KIC editor. I also have about half of issue 63 completed. Issue 52 went out to subscribers on Friday so I'm 10 issues ahead. I wrote 5,237 words - 763 short of my weekly goal of 6000 for the serial. I still need to focus on 4 issues a week and put this behind me. I want to move on and finish my novel.

My oldest daughter has a make-up basketball game at 4:15 and we are invited to a Superbowl party. I made the bourbon slush so I'm all set. I hope the Philadelphia Eagles win, just because the Patriots thumped the Panthers in the Superbowl last year. It's time for retribution even if it won't come in the form of a BLACK CAT!

I hope to come home tonight and finish issue 63, but I'm not counting on it. I haven't heard anything from any of my submissions. Here is the outstanding list:

1 poem to Skyline Magazine (submitted 8/20/2004)
1 short story to Mid-South Review (submitted 10/14/2004)
1 poem to Maelstrom (submitted 10/28/2004)
1 poem to Big Ugly Fiction (submitted 10/30/2004)
1 poem to Evergreen Review (submitted 11/15/2004)
1 poem to NFG Magazine (submitted 12/6/04)
1 poem to Penwomanship (submitted 12/27/2004)
1 short story to Collected Stories (submitted 1/27/2005)
1 poem to River Walk Journal (submitted 1/27/2005)
1 poem to Binnacle Prose Competition (submitted 1/31/2005)

With the acceptance of the book review, I have 22 acceptances for 2004 -2005, 17 rejections and 12 outstanding submissions.

This week I plan to complete four issues of the serial and complete the poetry column for KIC magazine. I also plan to read 1 book. Wish me luck!

BK

Adding Hats to my Writer's Wardrobe. . .

I sat down Wednesday night and wrote a book review for The Coal Tattoo, by Silas House. It is one of those lazy literary pieces that I lose myself in so very often. I wrote it in about an hour.

I posted on my writer’s forum where I asked for places to submit. Another writer suggested Midwest Book Review. So I sent it to the editor and viola! It is running in their March edition. So, I sent him a bunch of others I’d written. The editor had many good remarks about my work too. Perhaps one day, I’ll be good at something that PAYS!

My next review is for Carry Me Home, by Sandra Kring. The book sits on my desk ready to be read, but I don’t allow myself to read until all of my own writing is complete for the week. That ain’t been happening lately. You can read an excerpt here.

Michelle Miles has a short story out in Wildchild Publishing’s February issue entitled Mingled Yarn. Check it out.

I haven’t heard anything more from any of my submissions, but KIC’s contest winner for January chose a one month free subscription of my serial for their prize. I have a feeling it is someone I *know* but hey, I’m not complaining.

For those of you who left comments expressing concern for my son’s head, I say thank you. It’s safe to say he is back to normal and he’s confirmed my suspicions that he indeed has a cinderblock for a skull.

I wrote issue 62 of the serial Wednesday night and completely forgot Lost was on. I hope it was one I’d already watched. I heard it was a rerun. I need to type and edit it and begin work on issue 63.

It is another basketball weekend, despite Superbowl Sunday. My oldest daughter has a game Sunday at 4pm. Needless to say, the fathers of the girls are very upset (as well as some of the mothers).

Well, I have a few free minutes so it’s off to issue 62. Have a wonderful weekend.

BK

Children

My friend’s novel was rejected by a publisher yesterday and she is a bit down in the dumps. Understanding this is a business and it was nothing personal on the part of the publisher, it is personal to the writer.

First of all, we pour our heart, souls, and sweat into our work. We create something out of nothing and the fact that many writers equate finishing a novel to giving birth is no coincidence. I’ve done both and the feeling is similar.

So, we query our child and find an agent who loves our child almost as much as we do. Securing an agent is in a way, validating what we already know about our child. It is good.

Now, the agent pitches our child to the publishing houses. Sometimes our child shines and is picked up right away and sometime our child languishes for months in the hands of editors who don’t care or love our child the way that we do.

Sometimes our child is rejected by the publisher. The shock is swift and severe. Our anger over the unfairness is overwhelming and sometime uncontrollable. How can they not love our child? What do they mean the ending didn’t work? How can they say my characters weren’t realistic and my dialogue wasn’t strong? I must have misunderstood you; did you say my premise was WEAK?

They’ve insulted your child, the fruit of months or even years of hard work.

The meek will take their child into their loving arms, protect it and never allow those evil people to hurt it again. The strong will take the child, evaluate her weaknesses and find ways to improve her. If she is shy, we find ways to make her more outgoing or if she is rambunctious, we find ways to slow her down. If she is awkward, we find ways to make her graceful or if she is angry, we search for the root of her aggression and find ways for her to control it. If she is one dimensional, we find ways to expand her. In short, raising a novel is similar to raising a child.

I know this author is strong and an awesome mother to three children, so I know which path she will take and I know she’ll be successful.

Speaking of children, one of my own, A Day With Pepper, is now published at Penwomanship. Take a look.

Hunting Jack by Colin Galbraith won KIC’s Editor’s Choice for February. Congratulations and it is well deserved.

Yesterday evening was an agglomeration of family oriented tasks so no writing was done. I picked up the kids and after a nutritious dinner of hot dogs and chips, I drove my oldest son back over to the school for his basketball game.

My husband calls from his van, on his way back south to say the van is overheating again and he had a flat tire. The good news was, he’d be home in time to see the basketball game.

I made arrangements with another parent to take my youngest daughter to her basketball practice, but I’d have to pick up the girls after practice. My youngest son also had basketball practice at seven.

The parent picks up my daughter on time and I make it to the school during the first part of the second quarter of the game. I left my wallet in the truck and snuck in through the back door, because I didn’t have a dollar on me for the admission. I tend to yak a lot with other parents so I didn’t notice my son playing right away. When I did notice, I stopped socializing and watched.

My son got the rebound after the other team shot. An opposing player grabbed the ball and it became a struggle to gain control. CRACK! The opposing player flung my 5’ 0" 130 lb son head-first on the gym floor like a discarded candy wrapper. The whole gym went silent as my son struggled to get back to his feet. I saw red and felt angry tears welling in my eyes. THERE WASN’T EVEN A TECHNICAL CALLED ON THAT MONSTER. Well, my protective maternal instincts kicked into overdrive. No, I didn’t run onto the court, but I’m sure the referees heard my futile calls for a technical and for the other player to be tossed out of the game. What a bunch of stupid asses!

My son got to his feet and didn’t even cry, even though I knew he wanted to. He kept playing until half time. My heart ached for him, but he’s almost twelve now and I can’t protect him from the injustices of this world any longer.

I had to leave to pick up my daughter from her practice and I still don’t know who won the game. When I got home, my son had a huge knot on the back of his head and his pupils where a little dilated.

“Mom, I blacked out for a couple of seconds,” he said.

I made him stay up until ten o’clock and then I checked on him every hour of the night. I’m tired but he seemed fine to go to school this morning.

My daughter ran her butt off at practice and whined so much in the shower that I felt sorry for her. She must have slept it all off because her mouth was going a mile a minute this morning.

So, things are back to normal, if they ever were normal.

BK

My day as a writer. . . .

Another author on my writing forum asked the question “what is your perfect writing day?”

I’d love to answer that I’d hole up in my Gothic furnished library dimly light, surrounded by shelves of literature and history, a fire in the stone fireplace and playing Celtic or New Age music on the stereo. I'd complete at least 10,000 words a day of pristine prose that needed no editing and my top tier agent as well as my editor at my favorite publisher loved. Hey I am a fiction writer!.

Reality would be far, far different. Up at 6am, kids up by 7am and off to school by 7:50 am. Drive by Bojangles for a cuppa and back to the house. Rip off the shoes, tie on the yoga pants (nope, I don’t do yoga I just like the pants) and head upstairs to my desk.

I’d probably only get about 3,000 words written as nothing flows freely from this head. My artistic eye is very anal about getting it right the first time. I’d have to quit writing about 3pm so I can go pick up the kids from school and begin the evening dash. My husband would complain that the house is a mess and there’s no dinner. My kids would rush through their homework and dress in time for the evening activity. Someone would always drag their feet to catch the ending of Jimmy Neutron and I’d end up screaming like a lunatic.

I’ve long since discarded any romantic notions of being a writer. Debating Steinbeck’s socialist metaphors or discussing whether pre-religion TS Elliot is more thought-provoking that post-religion TS Elliot with the literary elite just isn’t realistic for a gal from the south.

My feet are grounded and I’m a better writer for approaching this as a business. My dreams of grandeur are gone, replaced by long hours in front of the computer perfecting my product. Will it pay off? Who knows but at least I tried. I've been reading MJ Rose's blog, Buzz, Balls and Hype and Maud Newton lately just for the business aspect of writing and publishing. I've added links to this blog if anyone is interested.

Yesterday I spent about 4 hours writing and editing. I wrote, typed and edited issue 61 and wrote one page of issue 62. I’m still 9 issues ahead of my subscribers and I hope to get at least 3 issues written this week.

On another note, I write Keep It Flowing – the poetry column for KIC’s quarterly magazine. The editor sent me a submission for A MONTHLY POETRY COLUMN! I was aghast that she’d actually sent this to me and my writing partner. (I later found out she sent it to me for that very reason.)

But the professional in me strapped on my submissions editor hat and went to work. I read the column, clicked on all the author’s links to do my homework. But alas, in the end, the big reject was written on my submissions log and I sent it back to the editor with the disclaimer: I'm probably not the best person to review this as I'm writing the Keep It Flowing column. The reasons:

No new information was provided
Sounded like a sales pitch
I disagreed with some of her statements
Although the author's credentials were respectable (but no more respectable than mine), they bypassed mainstream publication and chose the self-publishing route for their poetry.
The author was messing around in MY sandbox and I ain't sharing.

I'm thrilled to know I'm far enough up on the food chain to be solicited by e-zines for submissions. I get at least one a week now. I've never heard of most of them but it still makes me feel wanted.

Well, this real day job is calling, so I must return to drudgery.

BK