Why Age Matters

There’s a number of small presses and publishers looking for younger poets and writers.  It’s always disappointing to me, infused with experience and wisdom, to see an age limit on a submission form of a literary journal or publisher.

age-woman-aging-benefit-cosmetics-ecards-someecards.pngI know that America, and much of the world these days, has no respect for age; however, there was once this school of thought that there was some value in life experience.

Publishers want to discover the bright new star or hang on to someone who has a long and bright future ahead of them.

Instead of what, I assume, they mistakenly believe will be a one hit wonder leading to a quick and timely death.

That is why age matters to them.

HOWEVER – age does not matter. Many great poets and writers were “discovered” well after their 29th birthday: Toni Morrison, J.K. Rowling, Janet Fitch, Billy Collins, among many, many more! Cute-Funny-Baby-Laughing-Picture.jpg

You are not too old to learn the craft, you’re not too old to start writing, you’re not too old to submit, you’re not too old to publish.

When vexed by the youth, I remember that I can read a mapbook, I can light a fire, I know how to address a letter for post. If all technology were lost, I’d be able to survive.

Random facts stalkers don’t know…

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I grew up in a tough neighborhood. (don’t stereotype me)

I was in a band. (for about 5 minutes)

I was in a few movies. (another 5 minutes)

I wrote my first “novel”at the age of 11. (an angst ridden piece about a girl who is kidnapped because she witnessed a crime)

I was actually kidnapped. (not at 11/that story is waiting for publication)

I always have wanted to own a Munster-like house.

I’ve gotten lost in every major city I’ve ever been (including abroad. Trust me when I say every country/every city has neighborhoods you don’t want to be lost in at dusk)

I keep a lot of random facts as well as insignificant details in my brain. (jokes don’t stick tho)

now the stalkers know – don’t be a stalker….

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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Free Reading for the Holidays

Dad Shining is available for free now on Kindle Unlimited.   Enjoy!

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“Through the blue hills and green mountains of West Virginia, there’s a cemetery with my name on it. It’s in the back country where paved roads have yet to enter. The dirt and pebbled pathways are unnamed; the towns, if they can be called that, carry only the names of their settlers. In some cases, the families are long lost to graves and the names are an unsure mixture of dialect and history. But our name has carried through, strong, certain, alone on the trail that leads to the family church, the family land, and there, next to the chapel, the family graveyard.”