Getting Bent...Losing in Translation

Getting bent:

• 11-19-2010 -- I had been so proud that I had done a killer job keeping our grocery list under $100 in Thanksgiving week. Came home with Josh after a lovely day at the Carr Center == hit a granddaddy monster buck five minutes from home -- or did he hit me? He had a grey throat, grey body, all muscle. More like a train with horns than a deer. Car held up surprisingly well, but Radiator was busted, and front grill had been punched in. Of course, it all happened five minutes from closing time for our insurance...more drama, and our local police couldn't be bothered to file a report. Sheesh! --> 3, 9025.23 estimate not totaled, Insurance does seem to cover big honking bucks. Lots of front work, some work on door. The radiator needed replaced, the air-conditioning unit needed flushed. ---. 7-8 day repair.My mantra now a day is “Go Bucks– The Hell Away From My Car!”I want to put it on a bumper sticker.

·January 22, 2011 -- I have sold my first copy of my first book ever, to my cousin Steve Rice.

·Small Boy has his own version of a magic word: Abbra-CAN-Dabbra!

 

Losing in Translation:

Not that it’s any consolation to all of you who have actually been interested in the great going-ons of my life, but I really have been a writing fool of late…sometimes in more ways than one.

Just as I planned to release all of the Bickerstaff books into the wilds of Amazon, I was told rather pointedly that my grand plan for self-publishing the beasties my way so that the family could get their grubbies on the stories they’ve literally been waiting generations for & then seeking out an agent /publishing company so that they may do all their bells and whistles theirway – wasn’t going to work. I would be laughed at. In fact, I was laughed at. Frequently. The audacity of daring to publish my work for free, for doing what agents get paid to do – I was met with such equal parts of guffaw and horror, that you’d think I just set up someone’s beloved Nana in a thong bikini on a greased pole competition. Well, after a series of wet-noodle thrashings, I decided on a temporary compromise. I halted just before pushing the fatal button that would confirm all of the Bickerstaff books for sale, and have decided to try getting an agent first…

Of course, knowing me, this may last until June or July when the absurdity of it all annoys me too much, but we shall see. As far as I can tell, the whole purpose of trying to publish a novel the “Old-school” way is to make you loathe the sight of your own work. And don’t even get me started on the absurd hoops I have to jump through just to suck up to faceless strangers from an ungodly amount of faceless/heretofore-unheard of agencies. Two-page, 30-page synopsis, five-page synopsis and overview, a detailed map of electrical outlets in Fort Knox, and don’t forget tell me how wonderful I am and make sure to work out the cramp in my pinkie-toe, and I want a five-page essay telling me why you chose our agency and describing the very special intimate bond we have as two complete and utter strangers – One with connections and one without. Ah, if only the sucking-up-ness would continue on forever. They make me feel that all the time I “wasted” writing in my life would have been better spent practicing my Toady-skills. I do think some of them are legitimately trying to see how serious a writer-hopeful is, but I also think most of them are truly enjoying hazing all the naïve little rookies.

It occurs to me that I may not have the necessary patience or sense of humor to ply my craft in the old fashioned way…especially when a simpler, more streamlined, less foolish way is readily available. However, the one good thing that has come out of this is that thanks to the absurd requests of agents and their sundries, I have found and corrected a few more minor typos in a couple of the stories – and I have made the acquaintance of some genuinely brilliant writers who have graciously guided me in the ways of writing, and their courtesy and knowledge and humor has greatly restored all of my faith in the writing/publishing process… They have given me hope that someday, if I keep submitting and balance the right ball on my nose, I may find an agent who truly believes in my work and is truly worth all of the time and effort I spent trying to get passed the intercom at the gates. For now, I’m holding out the idea of pushing the final button on Amazon, just to keep myself from getting too depressed about this foolish process. I may not do it, but it’s been helping me to know that I have another option.

My current project isn’t my own project. A fellow in my writing group wants to publish his son’s travel journal and has kindly offered to pay me for going all the way through it and setting it up. I’ve really loved the idea of paying for Jon’s anniversary present with my own money, rather than his. And if I can pull this off, maybe this can be an ongoing thing. Who knows?

 Josh’s eye has improved somewhat because we’ve been patching it, but he’s going to need eye surgery for a muscle that is still throwing off his eye’s alignment. We have one more checkup first, but it looks like it will be done after May.

*Sigh*

The last few weeks have been a trying beast. There was a terrible breakout of meningitis in our community, and a little boy passed away and one little girl had to be in Critical care for a while. Several kids, including Josh had to be given emergency doses of powerful antibiotic, but Josh was never in direct contact with the other little guy. We were concerned about how to talk to Josh about the other little boy, because Josh is so death-obsessed already (the one downside to living around older folks who spend their days talking about “hopin’ they’ll be around for this or that” – that is, when they aren’t talking about the products of their bowels *sigh*). In the end though, as tragic as the situation was, Josh and the other kids seemed far more impressed with the fact that the antibiotics made their *ahem* pee red and yellow than anything else. Just before Josh officially cleared the 10-day window for possible infection, he suddenly started throwing up violently, and woke up screaming that everything hurt. Jon called me home from my writer’s meeting, then called the Nurseline…and because of the meningitis scare, they told us to skip urgent care and go directly to the ER, where Josh would likely have to have a spinal tap (because of course, there’s no other way to test for meningitis). Oh, we were all kinds of freaked. Then we got up there, they checked him over and gave him anti-nausea medication…and what we now like to term the “$150-dollar-cherry-popsicle”. He held it down. The sudden pain in his head and neck disappeared. The docs didn’t do the spinal after all (Thank God!), but decided it was sour stomach and stress (likely due to Josh’s concerns over the next day’s kindergarten testing). We went home, feeling raw and fragile. Josh slept like a sedated log and woke up the next morning to breeze through the testing like it was nothing. I think poor Jon is still rattled about it.

Adding to the fun was/is Jon’s fear of a furlough thanks to the political jokes in Washington. It still may come into play sometime this year, but he’s decided on a damn-the-torpedoes attitude after he discovered that he (and everyone in his office) is essential …but that the Area Office, Central Office, and Administrators were not. (Ha!) As it stands, he’s still going to work, and he’s decided that By God! We will be taking our first family vacation this year, because By God! After holding his breath through umpteen weeks of Congressional foolishness, he is in dire need of one now. For a while, he had severe stomach pains, migraines, and night terrors again – and he’s been grinding his teeth so much at night that he’s had to wear a mouth guard. I’m hoping that as things settle…or at least that when he finally knows what he can expect, that all of his stress symptoms will subside.

So…our first family vacation. *rocks back and forth, chewing on lip* And I get to plan it. *rocks back and forth* No pressure, no pressure.

I am equal parts brimming with excitement…and sloshing about with equal parts of deep concern. Josh and I are still butting heads – I mean, attempting to communicate in a healthy and loving fashion that does not involve a case of Advil and a strong wish for strong drink, (I think the heaviest we have in the house is 1% milk). Or the pervasive need to lock one of us in a padded, soundproofed room. My mother seems to take a perverse amount of glee in the situation… she keeps chuckling and muttering something about “payback”. Josh’s personality and conversational skills have indeed progressed remarkably, but trying to get him to do anything he doesn’t particularly want to do is … let’s just go with difficult, and leave it at that. I’m looking forward to everything else on our vacation, but I confess, I'm really hoping he packs “Cooperative Josh” and leaves that little bull-headed persona at home.

Well, that’s it, everyone. Next time you hear from me, I shall have posted glorious photos of our great doin’s, and God willing and the creek don't rise, we'll all have come back from our escapades in one piece. Take care, one and all.

Love you bunches, Kim