So, it has been almost a month since we laid my mother to rest. It goes without saying it has been a tough month.
This morning, I was browsing the inter tubes for a better idea of the floral rules and regulations of a national cemetery. They are few, but they are very particular and precise. Also, they have zero examples of what a metal disposable container is. That in essence was what I was trying to find. A metal disposable container to put some flowers in for my mother’s grave.
I do not belive anyone has been to the site since the burial. I am afraid to go, honestly. There are a lot of emotions still being held back by some inane force of will. I did not know I had that. This strange will that has overcome all normal reaction.
So, that may be the problem. Normal reaction would be what? I am not sure what that means at all. I feel a little like Meursault in The Stranger. Better stay away from Algiers. It has been a month. There have been some bad days and some good days. There is no anger and no despair. I am not wringing my hands and screaming out “WHY!!! WHY!!!” I know why. It is called cancer. It happens. It happens to just about everyone these days. If you live to be 80 are not touched by cancer you are an oddity.
Searching the web, looking for some flowers. Right.
I stumble on this nice little search application for gravesites in national cemeteries. I enter in the data on my mom and hit the button. I see D. There are absolutely no D’s in her name. There are no D’s in my name, my father’s name or my brother’s. Her middle initial is R, which is most certainly not D.
I look over all the other information and it is definitely my mom.
What a fail.
Had to wait two hours to call the cemetery so I could cool down. It should be fixed. I am not checking it though. Not for at least another day or so. Don’t think I could take seeing that D there again!
So, the day after my second submission is out over the intertubes, I see that you can preorder my first ever short story!! Just go here to get it. That’s quite exciting for me as it’s my first ever published for resale work. Ever. I can’t wait to read all the other stories included in the anthology.
I have to say that my second story is just fantastic. I’ve loved every moment that I’ve managed to work on it these last few weeks. It’s been quite a few weeks too. Quite a few weeks. But, it’s done and out the door. Now, it is in the hands of the anthologist/editor. It’s just a fun story about some cats and a girl that’s been possessed. What can I say. Who doesn’t love cats and possessed girls?
And, I’ve got a thrid story that’s about 1/4 of the way done getting ready to submit as well. This one will be quite dark…totally 180 degrees from the first two.
So, I’m still pretty high on being published.
I think it’s one of the most important goals I’ve had in my life. I know some people do make actual lists of “things” with “dates” and “priorities”. Me, I just can not get that organised.
Or, maybe it’s my personality. I definitely do not fit the Type A mold. I just know that I’ll get around to whatever it is I want to do in my time. That’s been a hard part in my still infant marriage to get the wife to understand. Timetables are things for a tour guide, not for a life. I just like to catch that 6:57 train to work, and be out in time to catch the 4:12 train. Other than that, I simply don’t care.
Mow the lawn when it needs it, wash the car when it’s dirty, put the dogs out when they whine. That’s my philosophy. All else is just silly.
But, your mileage may vary!
So, my first submission in 25 years…seriously. It’s been that long. I found http://www.timidpirate.com was accepting submission for an anthology called Benevolent Apocalypse and the rest is history. Well, the rest is a 3,200 word short story!
I know. That’s a seriously long time. Lets see…1987, Terry Waite is kidnapped, supernova 1987A becomes the first “naked eye” supernova in almost 400 years, Ronald Reagan is president, the Dow Jones breaks the 2,500 mark ( yeah, 2,500 ) and I get a short story published in my high school’s annual literary magazine.
Fast forward 25 years and I decide to break out the thing that you use to imagine things that don’t exist and write it all down. I have no idea what that’s called. But it’s fun as hell to whip it out and slap some words around, throw them onto paper and hand it off with a fevered wish to someone else who reads it and determines if it’s good enough to print. I have no doubts that my original work was published because it effectively doubled the size of the magazine.
I may write fiction, but I’m grounded in a bleak reality.
So, the submission dead line was yesterday. So, yeah. I’ve been living in my inbox for the last 10 hours or so.
Wish me luck, stay tuned etc. etc.