I won’t mention names, though I’d really like to do that. I belong to more than one site where stories can be submitted for peer review. The intention is that you read and review so many stories or write so many words in the reviews, then you can submit your own work when you have enough credits or karma or pretend money–each site is slightly different.

As a rule, this is good. It helps writers see the flaws they might otherwise have  missed and I know my work has improved through the process–both by learning from other’s mistakes as well as having my own pointed out for correction.

And then some newbie know-it-all has to go and irritate me with what I can only refer to as an irresponsible review.

Yes, I’ve been courteous to him, thanked him for ‘reading’ the story and reviewing. I don’t want to contaminate the site with a flame war because I like the general atmosphere of courteousness and mutual encouragement that reigns on this particular site. I’ve also asked the administrator to remove the review because I don’t think he read anything more than the first two pages of the story and the last paragraph. He skimmed.

My problem with skimming is that you tend to miss a lot–like what the story is about. The particular story I wrote was about a recently divorced woman with a friend that’s trying to get her back to ‘life’. The friend thinks he might have found an old boyfriend of hers that had meant a lot to her in high school. He contrives of a way to give them a little time to reconnect. This happens. At the end the woman sees that the friend is right, her life could have been different in multiple ways, and there is a creepy little ‘Norman Bates’ moment when she takes down a picture of children that had never existed except in her head and in this painting.

The review I received started by saying there was the narrator, the friend and the ex-husband. It went on in unintelligible phrases about how the story was exploring the break-up of the marriage and how the narrator’s “relational situation and the situation of the story need to be melded together.” I’m still trying to decipher that one. Another phrase I’m questioning is that according to the reviewer, I need to “think about the balance between the problem of the dresser and the relationship.” Which relationship is this reviewer even talking about? How does he consider the dresser a problem? Perhaps he thinks someone in the story is having a relationship with the dresser.  I have no idea…

He then suggests I read a story about a couple that had a hard time connecting and it’s recalled in a trip the husband takes while moving a mattress to the dump. In my story, the reason the narrator  divorced and got most of the marital assets was because her husband hit her. 

I don’t mind if a person doesn’t like a story I’ve written. I’ve had many harsh criticisms about elements in a story not working, about motivations not being strong enough, a lot of things, but at least in those reviews, they mentioned things that actually occurred in the story I wrote.

When I review, I read the whole story. I put it down. I make notes. I come back to it and re-read it. If I still have the same ‘problems’ when I read it the second time, I tell the writer about them. Sometimes in the second read-through I find hints and foreshadows I didn’t see the first time. I don’t expect that others follow my example, but how about reading the whole thing all the way through instead of a few snippets? Is that really too much to ask?

Well, you can pretty much tell how well your day is going to go when you switch on a copier to warm up and after a minute you hear a snap then smoke starts pouring out of it… I switched it off, unplugged it and took it outside where it remains…. lurking on my front stoop… daring me to open it up to see what went wrong.

I called the insurance agent because the secretary said she would mail the check after the agent wrote it. Today, he said he thought we were going to pick it up so what could have been taken care of days ago wasn’t…

A volley of phone calls began because my Grandmother is in the hospital and no one called my brother in Florida. This is unfortunate. So my sister called me to find out what was going on. I’m not sure of anything. She did share some lovely medical facts – and by that I mean frightening tales of coughing up blood and hemorrhages from paper cuts — truly inspiring details which I really could use if I decide to take up writing horror stories!

And it’s only 1:00 as I write this.

I thought I was going to record a “Voices” selection for Eclectic Flash, but that was cancelled. (It’s 8ish as I update — I wanted to record the rest of the day)

One good thing I can offer up is that my story is posted on Faith Hope and Fiction. The link is on the side — it’s the second one in the July/August 2010 Issue. Tricia did a wonderful job on the introduction and in helping me flesh out parts of the story that were a little weak. I’ve also had some great feedback from Hadassah Broscova. I’ve been writing and submitting for years and now that I’m starting to get published, the feeling of accomplishment is so great that I don’t mind as much the minor tragedies and worries of day to day life, even though the stress of a suddenly sputtering and smoking copier is not something I want to experience again anytime soon.

“How do you know that?!” My Aunt M. from Florida asks me. We’d been looking at old photos when I mentioned that my Great-Grandfather had enjoyed photography as a hobby. I’d grown up visiting him. I am a sponge with information. How do I know anything?

I was both amused and perplexed when she told my Grandmother that she wanted to know about a past relative who committed suicide in a ravine. “Why would she do such a thing?”

“Why does anyone?” I asked in reply. I don’t know that much about my Aunt’s life in Florida. I cannot believe she was born free of depression, but maybe she was lucky. Maybe the sun and surf and her wonderful husband and job and children kept the affliction away from her and she really cannot understand how sad and hopeless a person can feel. I don’t think I’d be the same person I am now had I not known the blackness.

I have no idea why it occurs. I was spiraling back into the abyss just a few days ago. I’m grateful that I was able to recognize the pattern of thought atop thought that feeds the next into the horrible despair that is so bloody awful. I was able to close my eyes and say, ‘new thought.’

It’s so stupid, too. I just had acceptances for my writing. I was going to visit relatives. I had plans for grilling out with friends. In any normal person’s eyes, I never should have tripped into that hole. But I did…

I have no idea what I know that my Aunts don’t, or why some things are glossed over. I know that if I want to confirm something about the distant past, I have to forcefully pull the truth from my Grandmother’s tongue by asking the most direct questions possible because, according to her, we never talk about those things.

So, I don’t know… How do I know?

Better yet, what do I know?

What an incredible few weeks it has been! The fourth was glorious with the GwI page going live (Again, thank-you Dawn Corrigan!) In rapid succession, I pitched a ‘guest blog spot’ idea to Lifebytes. Mariann and Sharon liked the idea so I was busy cramming thoughts about the role of love letters in the 21^st century in under 500 words. On the 11^th, my issue of Writers’ Journal arrived and of the three poems I entered in the December poetry contest, every one of them had received a Special Mention.

Then, Tricia Crisafulli of Faith, Hope & Fiction was kind enough to get back to me a week after I sent her “The Planting Season.” That evening, I had my writer’s group and was blessed to have their fresh eyes for tweaking. I sent my changes to her on Friday. Monday I received the final draft and read it. Some excellent changes were made by Tricia that gave the story more emotional impact — well, you can see for yourself. It will be appearing in the July/August Issue and I’ll put a link up when it goes live.

I was just about to go on Facebook and update my status when I heard the mail carrier pulling away. I had an odd, giddy feeling as I walked down the driveway. I thought it was odd, as I couldn’t recall having anything else sent out I would hear about through the mail. Opening the mailbox, I found a couple of Publisher’s Clearing House envelopes along with an envelope from Thema. I’d forgotten about my submission to Thema…

The envelope felt like the usual story sent back, rejected with a small snip of paper saying ‘No.’ I decided to open it on the way back to the house.

There was a check inside.

There was a letter of acceptance.

There was a release form to fill out and a flier explaining how to send your story on a disc if you didn’t have email.

OMG!

So, since I had received the acceptance for ‘The Planting Season’ on the Wednesday of my Writer’s Group, I couldn’t celebrate it then. The past weekend was Father’s Day. R- came by and we grilled. Monday tends to be ‘cleaning day,’ and I did clean, but then I slipped into something nice and the champagne flutes came down, got dusted off and when B came home, we popped the cork.

Now it’s Tuesday, the morning after and I’m updating my blog.

I’m neglecting to say that I also wrapped up a new story and will be sending that off soon; I have another written in my notebook based on a dream I had and three poems that don’t seem too shabby. Like I said — an incredible few weeks. And I need another cup of coffee, (and an aspirin) so excuse me for a bit…

So, this might be your first time here and that’s probably because you’ve been on the Girls with Insurance website recently. Welcome, and thank-you for reading my work. I do appreciate your time and interest and whatever little thing you do that makes you ‘you’.

One note, the poem you may have just read is based on a true story, just not mine — per se.

I’m writing this before that thread goes live- and to make another entry for May. “Write blog entry” has been on my list of things to do for at least a week now…

Family encounters seem to announce the arrival of Summer for me. I can’t tell you how many I’ve seen recently and plan to see many more Sunday at a picnic in Perry. I spent two hours on the phone with my sister last night, talking, trying to nudge her toward attending the picnic, too. It is always interesting to me that we fight but then can turn around and pick up a conversation as easily as we did when we were younger and sharing a bedroom with bare sheet rock walls and creosote dripping from the metal stove pipe.

I’d planned other things to write about, like how that piece was ‘finished’ as a flash on 7 May… How the members of my writer’s group are such fantastic people… How Dawn Corrigan is a great editor who helped change the flash into poetry… How she’s been thoughtful, encouraging and inspiring to me with my previous submissions and that’s what made this acceptance so wonderful – I feel lucky to have gotten a chance to work with her.

But you know how plans rarely tend to work out the way you think they will. That’s my own fault for making to-do lists at night. I have to ’quit making things so difficult’ and ’figure out end of Garrett story’ and ’make pasta salad’ and since the picnic is tomorrow and I just realized I don’t have salad dressing, this is the end of this post.

Thank-you for stopping by. It was nice to have been read by you.

For many years, I thought my husband was teasing (or possibly a wee bit lazy) since he insisted that – besides peas – nothing should be planted in the garden until Memorial Day weekend.  Yesterday there were brutal winds, and today snowflakes are flying around like it’s the end of October.  So, he was right.  Now I believe him.  With any luck it will warm up soon.  I’m opposed to starting a fire in May, unless it’s outside at the campsite or in the grill.

I’ve completed a new flash piece that I rather like.  I read it over the phone to Sheila and we tweaked one thing.  She didn’t like the choice of the word ‘fact’.  One word to change.  No big deal, right?  I would like to attest that in a 121 word piece of fiction, finding the ‘correct’ word for one that worked well enough was one, long arduous task involving a long phone conversation, thesauruses, dictionaries and text messaging.  We ended up with ‘inevitability’.  As soon as it’s published, you can see exactly how different that one word is to the text. Though, if you’re as impatient as I tend to be, you could email a request to read it.  I promise not to think less of you if you do.

The sun is shining now and I think I’ll go outside to enjoy it.  I started ‘The Imperfectionists’ by Tom Rachman and Hardy just let Rory move in with her so I want to see where that goes. After the write-up in the NY Times Book Review, how could I resist?  So that is an early anniversary present from my husband.  He’s so thoughtful!  No wonder we’re still together after ten years.

Last week, a challenge was put out on the Zoetrope boards… Have 50 things out at once. It was a daunting thought – at first – but once I looked at my binder, I saw that I had a few things that I still believe with all my heart are good enough and worthy of print – so I agreed.

I gave myself a two week option – because, let’s face it: I didn’t want to fail. I reread, edited, cut and got 13 things out this week. With the other bits of writing I already have out circulating in slush piles, I was down to 15 more things… Sigh… Then I signed on: a rejection sat there. I went out to get the mail: another rejection notice. (Also my copies of Eclectic Flash with ‘Quick and Dirty’ inside so it wasn’t all bad.)

So, I know that I can meet the challenge of 50 things out by next Friday. I will not be checking my email on Friday though… Or Thursday… and possibly Wednesday.

The weather has been fantastic and I’ve taken the beasts for multiple walks.  My writing has been in my notebook and so it hasn’t ended up in this blog.  There’s threat of rain today, so I’m upstairs waiting on the mail’s arrival. With any luck, it will hold good news.  After a few bruising rejections, I could use good news.

I turned 42 in the past week. I’m surprized, but grateful that I’ve made it this long. I have two stories that need to be finished; I don’t usually work with an outline, but these two tumbled out so quickly that I was forced to capture them that way.  In a very bizarre turn of events, a person at Samuel French wants a look-see at the one story. Interest is interest.  I’m still puzzled by his request, but I plan to wrap the story up in time for this month’s writer’s group. After the savage reviews and caustic comments come in, I’ll re-write if I need to and perhaps set it aside for the minimum of a week before I look at it again. So if you’re reading Mr. Patterson, that’s the plan…

Besides the changes for seasons, I’m close to being done with the library.  One more coat of paint and I’ll be able to place the paperbacks on the shelves.  The trim is on and the green walls look stately somehow. I cannot wait to get back in there to write!  The process hasn’t taken as long as I thought it would.  I have about a dozen more books to add to the data base and then I’ll be able to cull the duplicates and print out a list of the titles.

Of course, when that’s finished, I’ll want to start on the hardcovers.  Luckily the walls behind those shelves are already painted…

And so much for ‘bonus’ blog entries, though I’m glad that I’m still on the schedule I imposed upon myself. These last two weeks were filled up with incredulity. The superintendent of our schools and the impotent BOE who act as though they are powerless to stop her have been annoying lately. I tend not to care one way or the other in such matters, but the audacity has been brazen.

This ‘woman’ was fired from her last job and the chumps on the BOE took her puffed up resume and agreed to let her loose on our faculties. The teachers are afraid of being fired. The superintendent is raking in the dough and it’s all just so much crap.

You know who needs the retreats, the new furniture, and the raise? The teachers. And who is getting them? Ms. Wright — and if that name isn’t ironic, I don’t know what is…

Nevertheless, the shenanigans are just fodder for future fiction. I re-read Stephen King’s On Writing this week, always a good book to review the basics with. I applied the 2^nd draft = 1^st draft – 10% on an essay I wrote a while ago. Stripped down, I think it is a better piece than it had been. The Buffalo News put out a call for work and I submitted that one.

I also did something I’ve not attempted before. I simultaneously submitted one story to three different magazines. Normally, I’m against this practice, but with the three I submitted to, the average response time was four months, so I don’t feel there’s any harm in what I’ve done.

Last night, I read the version of ’Screwed’ I submitted to the writer’s group. I wish I had been able to trust my instincts a few months ago. The original (fourth or fifth revision) I sent was strong; it only needed a few changes as opposed to the many I was struggling to fix in the eighth revision I incorporated the writer’s group’s suggestion into. Too many cooks…

And yesterday was brilliant. Blair and I ran errands and shopped and had lunch at Red Lobster (Lobster-fest baby) and when I came home, the lovely little contract had arrived, making it a step closer to seeing another thing I wrote in print…

Like everything else, I think I will need to modify even this, my ‘easy’ blog. While writing here once every two weeks will not fall to the wayside (I hope) several times during the past two weeks, I wanted to write. The only thing stopping me was that I had said it would be a bi-monthly blog. So, now it’s a minimum of two posts a month. What did I feel the urge to write about?

Submissions, waiting and the feeling of acceptance. I frequent the short story discussion boards of Zoetrope and for whatever reason, the ‘celebration thread’ has held my interest for the last month. Last week and this one I entered my stats. Marko Fong is the person behind the recent posts and it’s inspiring. While virtual, it reminds me of the ‘after hours’ portion of the writer’s group I coordinated several years ago. After the meetings in the private dining room were over, the editor of the local paper and a man who has gone on to some political prominence and I would go for a beer in the bar in the Leland House. Triumphs and disappointments were discussed and encouragement offered.

 I’m averaging (and that is my latest goal) three submissions a week. I’ve been using Duotrope’s Digest to track my submissions. I think it’s a brilliant system. It helps to know how long I have been waiting and knowing when a response might be arriving. Rejection isn’t any fun, but this week I was offered some useful advice from an editor about a story I sent in. The next one I send there I hope will be the charm. I did have a story accepted and that feeling is fantastic. In the April issue of Eclectic Flash Literary Journal–Chief Editor’s Desk , look for my story “Quick and Dirty.” That’s all for now. My husband is painting the ceiling and the fumes are getting to be a bit much. Until next time…