When your back’s against the wall…

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Writing Wishes and Publication Dreams

I’ve been working on a new story – not only working – OBSESSED!  I don’t think I left the house for most of January and part of February until the first draft was done. I’m currently working through it again and again.  I’ve begun to gather my beta readers, and I’m quite excited.

Weekly, I spend time submitting. This is what a working writer does. Writes and submits. Rejections are no fun, and I get plenty of them. I read one statistic that read, “a writer gets an average of 26 rejections for every acceptance.” Not sure how they came up with that… I feel like it’s three times that much; however, things change!

Malcolm Gladwell, estimates it takes 10,000 hours to master any one thing. I feel like I should have reached those hours long ago; but, maybe, it takes some of us a little longer to get it. (That’s the story of my life!)

So – I have to update you.

My poem, “All At Once”, was a finalist in Medusa’s Laugh NanoText Contest. I didn’t win, but it’s still to be published in their anthology and in an e-book version. This should be available soon!

My poem, “I’ve Never Looked So Beautiful” has just been accepted by Mother’s Always Write. Before you start thinking I’m quite full of myself – the poem is about my lovely daughter! This should be available in the next month.

My story, “How to Throw a Psychic a Surprise Party” has been accepted by The Oleander Review. Sometimes, I write something and I think, this is pretty damn good, and I think this story says a lot about our humanity. I’m so happy that it will be published. It will be available mid-April

Finally, ladies and gentlemen, Writer Advice has just notified me that my story, “Memorial Day Death Watch”, has been chosen as a finalist in their Flash Memoir Contest!

We must have a purpose – I’ve always wanted to reach people, tell them they’re not alone. I think I’m just beginning to do that.

Live an Inspired Life!

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Thank you, Santa

Look at what Santa brought me!

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Okay, well, Santa didn’t actually bring her. I adopted Miss Annabelle from the shelter. She may look a little intense, which might be why the volunteer was hesitant to show her to me, but I could tell she was the sweetest little thing.

She was one of four left after their weekend giveaway. Two others were kittens, not ready to be adopted, and one was a shy little lady turned in by the only family she’d ever known. Annabelle was marked as a stray, possibly feral. FERAL? No way! I was petting her through the cage as she purred. However, that might have been why this beautiful cat remained unadopted.

Then again, maybe she was just waiting for me!

She has acted like a loving part of our family since the day I brought her home. She has not used her claws, she has not done anything remotely “feral.” In fact, she seems to have no interest in the “outside”as she ran when the door was opened.

The shelter said some people bring in their pets and say they found them so they can avoid paying the drop off fee. I thought the reason they lie might be shame. However, the shelter said it’s better for them to bring them in (and lie) than to just put the animals out on the street. True, but they have a better chance of being adopted if the person tells the truth.

I have no idea why someone might have given up Annabelle. But I’m lucky I found her. Or did she find me?

One Dollar Stories

How much is your image worth?

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Cris is an angry person. He feels that he is not getting his fair share. I’m not sure we can say that he ever had integrity given what he’s about to do. He thinks he’s getting a real deal, and he thinks no one can get hurt.

Where do any of us draw the line in getting what we want?  And are we willing to pay the price?

“One Dollar Stories,” my short story, appears in the new Crime Issue by Pilcrow and Dagger.

 

 

The Corner of Bitter and Christmas

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I went shopping last week. It was earlier in the day, around 11am, on a weekday when stores aren’t usually busy.

I sat on a rather large bench to try on the shoes. It could have easily sat four people, but the sales person set the shoes on the bench next to me leaving room for at least two other people. I tried on a pair. A woman came up, she was lingering around, looking at shoes. I wasn’t paying much attention to anything other than the comfort of the shoes I was trying on. The woman set down the box of shoes in one empty space, set down her large purse in her other empty seat, and continued to stand.

When I got up to walk over to the mirror and examine my shoes, she pushed my shoe boxes further over, said something to her husband that I did not hear, and took my seat.  I didn’t say anything, assuming she’d be gone by the time I returned anyway.

She tried on the new shoes, changed back into her shoes, and stood up just as I imagined. I went over, sat back down, and tried on the other pair of shoes. I got up again, expecting she’d take my seat again, but she did not. She grabbed her things, looked my way, and said something like “what’s wrong with some people?”

At the register, the cashier was ringing out the first person in line. There were two other people in front of me. The cashier had forgotten to take the customer’s return from the final price. The customer was very impatient. The woman behind her turned to her friend and said something, loud enough for everyone to hear, about the customer. Sensing an argument that I didn’t want to be a part of, I checked my phone. The customer having the problem walked away without a purchase, causing more negative comments from the friends behind her about how she’d wasted their time. They turned to me, an attempt to bring me into their circle. I looked at my phone, avoided their gaze.

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After that purchase, I needed to pick up an order from another counter. Another long line, so I waited. Again, more impatient people. The woman in front of me walked up to another sales person, “can’t you get someone else to help?” She returned, looked at me, and tried to bring me into her circle of complaining about the service.

The first thing that occurs to me is: 1. We have become a very impatient society. I remember waiting in long lines with my mother as a child. People waited patiently, because the wait was expected. Today, with our instant society, no one is expected to wait, and no one expects to have to wait.  Does anyone remember the long lines in a Blockbuster video store on a Friday evening?  and 2. The Christmas Season is upon us. The season where, unlike the ideal – let their be peace on earth, people are more stressed than at any other time of the year.

Let’s be honest. Christmas time is not the most wonderful time of the year. ESPECIALLY when you’re shopping.

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Even every day activities, like running to the market for the usual items, becomes more of a chore. The lines are longer, which honestly is NOT the problem. The problem is how the people act in those lines.

At a local  market, I got into the wrong line. I did not see the 15 Items or Less Sign. The person in front of me had a full cart. The man behind me had a full cart. I had probably 20 items. At least two other people in that line waited patiently behind that man without saying a word. But a man walked up to the very back of the line and instantly started complaining. I didn’t pay attention. To hear people complaining about lines is like white noise in the supermarket. But his voice kept getting louder, closer, then he was behind me. He was yelling – YELLING – at the man behind me about having too many items. The man moved his cart and let him go in front of him. The cashier was just about to ring through my things when the man moved his attention to me – “I guess you can’t read either.”  I turned around to see, yes, he was indeed speaking to me. He had two children with him. I had no idea what he was talking about until he pointed out the small sign over the register. He had successfully bullied himself to the front of the line and I was the only one standing in his way to be first. The cashier paused, wondering if I was going to let him in front of me. And, you know what, had he called it to my attention nicely, had he asked me with any decency, had he not just bullied the other people in line and berated the old man behind me, I would have let him go – But, it’d been a long day, I was tired, and this man was an asshole. I told him to take a flying leap – well, we’ll say those are the words I used. And the cashier rang me through. The man was still not satisfied with being next; he continued yelling until the manager came over and took him to another register to wait on him personally.

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These things happen every day around the holidays. People are pressured, stressed, trying to make their holiday the best for their family, try to get things done between work and other responsibilities, and people lose their patience, if not their minds, in the effort to do so.

Welcome to the corner of bitter and Christmas.

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We are supposed to be nicer this time of year, more patient, more beautiful to one another, but so many people lose sight of that.

When I must go out and face the crowds, I prepare myself by telling myself that I must be more patient than those who are not, kinder than those who are not, and I must smile especially for those who are not.

At one sale, my daughter handed me a prized purse; the last of its kind. I wasn’t certain I wanted it but, if I put it down, it’d be gone. I was looking at the purse, wondering if I should really buy it just because it was the last of its kind and everyone else wanted it, when I noticed the woman across the display from me.  I smiled.  She smiled.  “I’m sorry,” she said. “If you’re going to put it back, I’d like to have it.” I handed it to her. She was extremely grateful and happy. I’d made her day. Now, that’s the Christmas Spirit.

I don’t go out on Black Friday. There is nothing I want or need that is worth fighting – literally – fighting for. The stores set things up like a competition – think about it: Competitive Shopping! I say, don’t give in!

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In light of everything that is going on in our society right now, in the world, I say keep your common sense, keep your dignity, keep your smile, and stay patient in the face of those who are not. Do not meet them at the corner of bitterness and Christmas, come on over to the Self Respect Cafe and relax.

Less stress means fewer wrinkles, better sleep, an overall better feeling throughout the holiday season – and you’ll never have see one of those embarrassing pictures of yourself.

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This season – be kind, be happy.

Harvey Levin Can’t Die!

I’m happy to say this strange fiction about life without reality television – Can you imagine?! – has been accepted for the Comedy Aug/Sept issue of Pilcrow and Dagger.  Don’t you love them madly?!!

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Harvey Levin Can’t Die – Aug/Sept Issue of Pilcrow and Dagger!

 

When I killed my neighbor’s dog….

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Maybe I was having a dream, maybe I heard a noise in the driveway, maybe I heard any of the assorted dogs in the neighborhood barking, whatever it was that woke me up at 3 a.m. on a weekday morning, that line was zinging in my head.

As I lay there, trying to get back to sleep, I wondered where else that line might go. So, I let it lead me, take me wherever it might go.

I thought maybe I’d make a mental note, write it the next day, maybe take physical notes on the notebook next to my bed and finish it after work.

Then, by 4 a.m., with the story unwinding itself to me, I got out of bed. I took my notebook into the dining room, turned on the light and wrote.

By 5:30, I’d finished the majority of the first draft and started to get ready for work.

“Of Strays and Exes” was a departure for me – it’s snarky, ironic, almost funny.

So, don’t judge me too harshly, ladies and gentlemen, apart from the first line, the story is actually about the connection and disconnection we do throughout our lives in relationships and with the people (and critters) around us.

The story is available in New Beginnings by Pilcrow and Dagger.

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Mother’s Day is a Celebration of Life

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My grandmother, Ruth, on my father’s side, died before I was born. I never knew her. I’m told she lived in Los Angeles for some time; perhaps that is why I feel so at home here. When I arrived here so many years ago, I felt like I was coming home.

My grandmother, Mary, aka Amelia, passed less than a year ago. A week after she passed, I received the notification from Pilcrow & Dagger they were publishing the poem I’d written years before, inspired by her visit to L.A.  My grandmother used to write poetry – she left me her book of poems; it is a treasure!

My mother lives in Ohio.  She made the best cookies – still does!  Mom – send me some! J

Then there’s me –  Not to be cliché, but my life started when I had my daughters. It’s when I got serious about life, when I formed real ideas about priorities, when I started thinking of people other than myself.

 

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My girls and myself

 

 

Grandma’s Tour

 

 

It’s Christmas day.

She wants to see where she thinks

Marilyn’s body lies.

She doesn’t understand the tomb in a wall,

a name on a plaque.

She wants to touch the same dirt

Marilyn’s body touches.

 

 

I show her Jack Lemmon’s

“In” –

She wants to see the thirteen year old

from Poltergeist.

Another plaque on the wall.

 

 

Grandma is flustered,

she doesn’t want to be encased in eye-level marble,

an uncertain burial, she wants to rot

in the dirt, she says,

the natural way.

 

 

It’s Christmas day and my daughters

want to know why we’re at a graveyard.

My little one is writing down names

and dates,

an attempt to, once again, give the long dead

significance.

The older one won’t come close

She uneases herself along the edges of

the grass, the crypts,

the fresh dirt.

Unwilling to let the dead touch.

She’s taken an impromptu dislike to grandma

 

 

who is weeping.

It’s Christmas day and she expected

the movie stars to rot in the dirt,

like she will, she says,

but even in death, they are distinct.

 

I Used to Use My Brain; Now I Use Google.

The other day, I googled a location in downtown Los Angeles, made mental note of the ease of its relationship to the freeway, and hopped in my car, confident in my Google Maps app.

(I must admit, it is a place I don’t visit unless required to by an errand, appointment, or event. I went to the Staples Center for a concert. I’ve met friends for events, even did a 5K. I like downtown. Yet, with traffic and one way streets, my lack of knowledge of the area, and my fear of the crime that still infiltrates the lovely old and new buildings of downtown, I don’t find myself exploring too often, and especially not by myself at night. And yes, I know, to some extent this is silly. My friend metro’s down there all the time, by herself, at night!)

In any case, my Google Map app suggested a plan different than I was familiar with. But I took it to avoid the traffic that GM claimed was blocking my rather straighter path. I felt confident in my Google app abilities. It once saved me thirty minutes from a blocked freeway due to an accident in San Juan Capistrano by announcing forcibly and loudly, “exit here.” And I did. I took to unfamiliar streets and roadways, and found myself at the right place even ahead of schedule. This had endeared me, allowed me to trust the app that I’d never relied on alone before.

Previously, when GM suggested I take the 605 instead of whatever I was on, I clicked the dismiss button because I know nothing about the 605; and even if the 5 or the 405 or whatever was cramped or sauntering, limping along, I knew those freeways. I could get off, get on, get to the other, find a gas station, a starbucks.

But emboldened by my Google Maps’ saving grace at the unfamiliar beach town, I allowed GM to tell me to take the 210, transfer to whatever, and then turn here or there.

But then – my phone shut down.

I was in the middle of nowhere – well, I was somewhere, obviously, but I didn’t know where. I didn’t know what turn was next, and then what after that? And what if it got dark as I was attempting to find my way? And why did my phone turn off? Do I want to be lost downtown without my phone at night?

Uhm, no.

Wait, wait. I am of another generation. I am of the generation that grew up without Google Maps or even electronic, satellite connected, mapping devices. I’ve been stuck in other downtowns, at night, I’ve gotten lost in every major city of every country I’ve ever been to. I always found my way home. Or found my way somewhere.

Today, tired, not feeling well, not motivated to spend the hour in traffic to go downtown anyway, I pulled off the freeway and sat in an empty lot staring at my dead phone. What did I do?

In the past I’ve made mental notes, or even physical notes, of the freeways, the exits, etc. Previously, I might have printed out the directions, just in case. Today, however, I’d done no such thing. I’d barely looked at the route. I let Google take over.

I sat there deciding. Did I continue on, hoping signs would tell me what to do, where to go? Did I ask directions? In the old days, the gas stations had maps on their walls, map books behind the counter. Now they had advertisements on the walls, vapes behind the counters.

The attendant looked at me strangely. “I’m not from this area.”

The other employee said something to the effect, “take the 210 to the 5, and then….”

A customer pulled out his phone, “Where?” he asked. “Take the 210, to the 2, get off at ….”

And it was all lost to me. I didn’t trust these strangers. I’d trusted Google. I’d trusted Samsung.

How much we trust our electronics instruments these days. How lost we are, literally, and metaphorically, without them.

Google finishes our sentences for us. Google saves our searches. Google offers us suggestions in random order controlled by those who clicked before us. Google helps us with our every day lives and allows us the luxury of not having to think, to plan, to do much of anything. Press a button, watch a movie, press a button listen to the summary of a book, press a button……

But – not really – Google doesn’t do these things.

We allow Google to do these things for us. To us. And we became just a little bit more comfortable in our dependence.

Had I taken a moment to even look at the route. Had I made the decision to take the route I was familiar with. Had I done a little more planning and work, everything would have gone a little more smoothly.

Google, I do appreciate you. But I really need to count on myself a little bit more.

Spoiler Alert!

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Daughter: My friend invited me to Oregon, I need a new bathing suit.

Me:  Bathing suit?  It’s going to be chilly.

Daughter: So I’ll take a sweater. We’re going sit on the beach at night and watch the stars.

Me:  At night….On the beach… In Oregon…. at this time of year?  It’s going to be cold.

Daughter: So we’ll take a blanket too.

Me: You’re going to need a coat, maybe gloves.

……………………..

Me: Last time I was on the beach at night, we saw a rat.

Daughter:  Your new nickname is SPOILER ALERT!

Me: That’s what they called me in college!

Daughter:  Why do I not doubt that?!